


Not Just a Patch Job

by AshSeven



Series: Unconfused [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Demisexual Yuri Plisetsky, Depression, Fluff and Smut, Heavy Angst, Knotting, Leaked Nudes, M/M, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Social Media Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23786800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshSeven/pseuds/AshSeven
Summary: Sometimes Otabek is the one who needs help to get his life back in order. A revenge plot lead to leaked nudes and he's not quite sure if he can pull through. Trying to convince himself that everything is alright once again, proves harder than he thought, but it might be the kick in the ass he needed to get his life and career back on track and take the next step in his relationship with Yuri.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Series: Unconfused [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/924177
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	1. Part One - Lay me Bare

**Author's Note:**

> **This isn't a new fic; I'm compiling the three fics from Otabek's POV into one because I don't like how it looks on my dashboard.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got [asked](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/post/170512129927/i-absolutely-love-wgap-one-of-my-fav-stories-tbh) whether or not Assyl was above faking a pregnancy to trap Otabek. Tbh he wouldn't go that far, especially not with the way Otabek dumped him, but he would go out of his way to get revenge. So, this fic was born.
> 
> Thanks [mythicalheartbeat](https://mythicalheartbeat.tumblr.com/) for the question that sparked this!!

Iska:  
What the fuck Otabek  
You better have a good explanation for this!!  
Don’t ignore me!  
What’s going on!  
OTABEK!  
Your life is basically ruined! What the fuck answer me!!

And, it had started off as a good day too. Otabek sighed heavily as he read his cousin’s messages. He would have passed it off as Iska just being an annoying shit, but Bal, Camran, and Roza had texted him in a similar manner, and there was also a worrying email from his PR manager. He swore aloud, running his hand through his hair.

The NRW Trophy was one of Otabek’s biggest competitions before the Grand Prix Final. He’d managed to get into that one by the skin of his teeth, only a fraction of a point ahead of Michele Crispino. The NRW would be good practice if anything else. Both he and Anes had entered, and the flight to Dortmund, Germany had been the worst part so far. He’d come in second for the short program, and the free skate was tomorrow. Gennadiy and Tair had both clasped his shoulders in the kiss-and-cry, but he couldn’t wait to call Yuri later that night to give him the good news.

But it looked like plans had changed.

He ground his teeth as he replied to Iska, letting his gym bag drop from his shoulder to the floor as he sat down on the edge of the hotel bed.

Me: What’s going on?  
I just got back to the hotel.  
Today was the Men’s Free Skate, you know I wasn't online

Iska replied instantly, he had probably been watching his screen the whole time.

Iska:  
You are in so much shit right now

Otabek raised an eyebrow. Why? He hadn’t done anything. Well apart from that party in New York with Yuri a few weeks ago when the paparazzi had managed to get a shot of them kissing in a cab, but that wasn’t anything to warrant Iska’s rage.

Me:  
I have no idea what you're talking about  
Did the press publish something?

Iska:  
The press???  
Fuck  
You really have no idea what’s going on?

He ground his teeth.

Me:  
No shit, that’s why I’m asking.

Iska sent a link. And Otabek held his breath as he tapped on it. It brought him to some file sharing service that looked a bit sketchy, with all the ads for sexy singles nearby, and took a million years to load. But, he scrolled through it anyway and nearly dropped his phone. Looking back, he would probably describe the moment as surreal, but not in a good way. He felt as if he was watching himself from a distance, as if his body didn’t belong to him and was moving of its own accord. He remembered his throat going dry, and his hands shaking and feeling so physically sick that he had to go to the bathroom and stand over the toilet.

His phone vibrated a few more times, before it started to ring. He picked up to Iska’s voice.

“You better fucking explain yourself.”

He swallowed, his tongue felt like charcoal. “I...”

“Why the fuck are your nudes all over the internet?”

He knew the picture, and he knew exactly who he had sent it to.

Anes texted him; he didn't read it. And the group chat with Iska and the others was on fire. He considered putting off his phone for a while; he didn’t even know how to explain himself. He had sent his ex nudes and he had leaked them. What more did they want? He didn’t need to hear Bal and Iska call him a slut, even if they were joking around in a backwards attempt to make him feel better.

Tair and Gennadiy knocked on his door; but he didn’t answer and waited until they left after Gennadiy called his phone and left a voice message. Honestly, this wasn’t the best way to be dealing with this right now. But fuck. How the hell was he supposed to look anyone in the face, knowing they had seen him like that ?

Otabek didn’t move from the foot of his bed after returning from the bathroom; he sat hunched over his knees and raking his hands through his hair. Honestly, he couldn’t believe that this was happening. He could feel his heart jumping against his chest and the slow, heavy pulse in his ears. Iska was right, his life had been ruined. Clenching his hands into fists, he realized that he couldn’t even feel his fingers anymore. His track suit and costume weren’t the warmest things in the world, but the room was freezing. And the edges of his vision were going dark.

News in Almaty spread like butter on a frying pan; that link was probably already in every household, shared on millions of websites and through messages and, fuck. He exhaled harshly, eyes prickling as his cheeks began to heat. He’d never be able to go out in public again. He never be able to face a single of his fans that stopped him for his picture, knowing that they’d seen his dick as well. And his parents... fuck. He slid from the bed to the floor, biting his lip as he stared at the ceiling.

Was that what Assyl had wanted? To completely and utterly destroy his life? He tried to breathe, but his nose was already blocked. Fuck. Just fuck. He bit his knuckles hard, pinching the skin between his teeth. He could already list off the sponsors that would drop him; he had more than a few that put emphasis on his clean, family friendly , persona. Shit, he had a brand that was targeted at kids. He growled, banging the back of his head against the edge of the mattress; they had just put up a billboard with his fucking face on it. Allah, save him; that was going to get taken down for sure.

And Yuri. Fuck. Otabek’s breath stopped. What would Yuri think? Assyl wouldn’t have been above sending the link directly to him, if he had sent him mean texts they who knows what else he would do? Otabek knew how dick pics made him feel, and even though he insisted that he wasn’t repulsed by sex, Otabek knew it made him uncomfortable at times. What was he even supposed to tell him? Was he going to freak out? Would he get mad? He reached out for his phone, but stopped halfway. There was no excuse he could make up for this right now. He’d been such a fucking idiot. Fuck. He dragged his hand down his face, feeling a slight tremor in his fingers. He had to fix this before he spoke to Yuri. Shaking his head, he got to his feet and hung his jacket on the back of the chair next to the window. He took a few deep breaths, staring out on the city below.

What he needed to do was get those pictures down now. His PR manager would know what to do, and he would also need to call his lawyer.

Yuri had sent a snap of himself giving the camera a thumbs up, eyes squinting as he smiled. He could see a bit of Potya in the bottom corner of the picture and the caption read, ‘Davai Beka!! Already know you’ll crush everyone <3’

Otabek held his breath until the timer ran out and he was staring at his chat list. Yuri had tried to call him while he was talking with his lawyer. A part of him wanted to reply, to both the call and the text he had sent right after, but he was also glad that he’d been on a call he couldn’t hang up on. By the time he had finished, it was way too late in Saint Petersburg to call. Or that’s what he told himself. The good luck snap had surprised him. Yuri had clearly just woken up; his hair was a mess around his head and the fact that Potya was under his chin said that he was lying down. He probably had an off-day today, but it was strange that Lilia would have let him sleep in so late. He sent his a quick ‘thanks’ before slipping his phone into the bottom of his gym bag and heading to the bathroom to shower. The men’s free skate was in four hours, warm-ups started in two.

Tair and Gennadiy had come to his room a bit earlier, both with solemn faces to ask him if he still wanted to compete. Otabek had clenched his jaw, pushing his glasses up his nose. In truth, he didn’t even want to leave his room. He had avoided all social media, knowing that an absolute shitstorm was going on right now. His Instagram was still private, but the red number notification had been steadily climbing since last night. But, if he didn’t compete or at least try, then Assyl would have won whatever sick game he was playing. And Yuri would be disappointed.

So, he kept his headphones in, avoided everyone with a camera and a microphone, kept his head down, and he didn’t go to the public warmup. Still, as he stepped onto the ice and tired to clear his head, the murmur of the crowd itched his spine, and he had to look down to check if he was wearing clothes. Unlike his short program the day before, he could feel that this routine was a disaster. He was off, his body wasn’t moving like how he wanted. His feet felt heavy. He knew what everyone in the room was thinking about. He knew what they were all posting to Instagram or Twitter. He knew that the media was going crazy, and that his sponsors were already going through the paperwork to drop him. He realised that a jump pass was coming up almost too late, caught up in his thoughts. His jump was too shallow, too quick and wobbly, the landing was just as bad. His knee exploded with fire, numbing the pain when he landed on his hip. He heard the crowd hiss and groan when he got back up, and he clenched his jaw, trying to reorient himself, scrambling to pick up on the choreography. His knee wouldn’t cooperate, throbbing, protesting every movement. He downgraded the rest of his jumps on purpose, threw out a few spins near the end of the routine and when it was over skated to the exit on one leg. He had never burnt out so hard before. He would be lucky if he had even gotten a fifty with that routine.

Tair helped him onto a bench, examining his knee through his costume. He and Gennadiy exchanged a few short words, with one of the nearby officials, before they both helped him to the medical room. He wouldn’t be sitting in the kiss-and-cry, but he didn’t need to to know that he wasn’t making it on to the podium.

Gennadiy helped him to keep his balance as he wiggled out of his pants for the therapist to examine his knee. It was swollen and red, he cursed, wondering how long it would take to heal this time. He clenched his jaw as the therapist, poked and prodded up his quad, down to his calf and ankle, and he felt his eyes welling up, but it wasn’t from the pain. He knew the routine: ice compress, stretches, avoid putting any weight on it, rest. Maybe electrotherapy again.

Gennadiy clasped his shoulder. “You just need a bit of rest, Beka.” His Russian accent reminded him of Yuri sometimes, especially now, and his stomach clenched. He had been watching and he’d fucked up. Again. “We’ll talk more tonight, with Tair, but maybe with all that’s... happened, and now this, you should think about withdrawing from the GFP.”

Otabek swallowed, grinding his teeth. “What?”

He shook his head. “You’ve been involved in a lot of drama on social media this season. Now it’s started to affect your skating. I know you were distracted; that routine wasn’t you. We will talk more later, but you need to start to consider this as an option.”

The only way to describe the following feeling was hollow.

Yuri had tried to call him three times, but he responded to Roza’s messages first.

Roza:  
Beka, you okay?

Me:  
Fucked up my knee again.  
Coaches want me to withdraw from the Grand Prix Final.

Roza:  
Fuck  
Can I call?

He shut his eyes for a seconds, bending down to adjust the ice-pack on his knee. A quick glance in the mirror across from the bed, told him that his eyes weren’t as red as he thought they would be, and his glasses hid the worst of it.

Me:  
Yeah.

A FaceTime call came from Iska. He answered to the four of them crowded around his cousin’s iMac.

“I’m gonna cut a bitch,” Roza growled as soon as the call connected. “You sure you’re okay, Beka?”

“I’m fine. Just need to rest my knee for a few weeks.”

“So the GPF is off the table?” Bal asked, frowning.

“Not sure.”

“I wasn’t referring to your knee, though,” Roza sighed.

Otabek shrugged, swallowing as he felt his throat tighten. “I... yeah.”

“Are we 100 percent sure it was Assyl?” Camran asked, his voice dangerously cold.

“Yeah. He’s the only one who should have had the picture.” He pushed his glasses up to his forehead to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Iska took a deep breath. “You talked to your lawyer?”

“Yeah. Have a meeting with him when I get back.”

“You’re going to sue his ass off right?” Bal asked. “Shit, what kind of asshole do you have to be to fucking leak nudes?” He wrapped an arm around Camran’s waist, pulling him onto his lap. “Also, Beka, why the fuck was your face in it?”

“I... I wasn’t thinking… at the time.”

“No, your dick was doing the thinking.”

Camran punched Bal’s shoulder and hopped off his lap. “Don’t worry about it too much, Beka. there are so many celebrities who have had their nudes leaked. No one’s reputation has been completely destroyed because of it.”

“If anything, it makes you more desirable-”

“Bal, finish that sentence and I will punch you. Look, a lot of the links don’t even work now; your PR team has it covered.”

“Do you know why he leaked them, though?” Roza asked softly. “You two have been broken up for almost two months. Why now-”

“The link went up right after Yuri posted that picture of him and Beka at that party in New York.” Iska supplied. “Bitch most likely got jealous.”

Roza blinked. “I’m not going to ask how you even know that.”

“Connections.”

“Right. Okay, then. What about Yuri? How did he react?”

Otabek shrugged. “Haven't spoken to him yet.”

Roza’s eyebrows dipped dangerously, but Bal beat her to it. “He hasn’t called you ?”

“He tried to, but...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Has he spoken to any of you?”

Camran nodded. “Just to ask if it was Assyl.”

Otabek nodded, biting his lip. “I - actually I’m gonna give him a call now. I’ll talk you guys later.”

“Yeah.” Iska nodded.

“Hey, remember,” Camran practically, jumped to stop him from ending the call. “You’re going to be okay. Trust me, this is all going to vanish in a few months.”

He couldn’t wait until then.

“Go talk to your boyfriend,” Bal urged. “Maybe dating someone who’s asexual will teach you to stop being such a slut all the time.”

“Fuck off, Bal.” He hung up.

That was something he was still getting used to, though. They did have a rocky start, but he was constantly having to remind himself to take it slow and to let Yuri start anything intimate. Honestly, he still didn’t fully understand how that part of Yuri’s mind worked, but he would rather shoot himself in his foot than make him feel uncomfortable about it. And this was really something that they needed to talk about, but he couldn’t bring himself to make the call.

The flight back home was thirteen hours long. Business class came with free Wifi, and he really had nothing else to do. He opened up Twitter, unsurprised to see his notifications somewhere in the hundreds, even though he hadn’t posted anything other than the required sponsored content since. He knew the types of posts he would be tagged in. Outraged parents condemning him because their children looked up to him, fans yelling their disappointment, and the occasional pep talk and encouragement from someone he didn’t know. He ignored them all, except for the one from the devil himself.

Assyl-Baby @goldenprincessassyl2: @otabek-altin, so how does it feel to be publicly humiliated? #irony #leakednudes #karmaisabitch

He saw red for a second, and blanked out the fact that people had actually liked and re-tweeted him. But then he saw that one of the replies was from Yuri, and literally everything froze.

IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky: It’s not karma when you fucking leaked them yourself. You’re not fooling anyone #therealbitchisyou

Something flared in his chest that Yuri had been so quick to jump to his defence.

Assyl-Baby @goldenprincessassyl2: um do u have proof?? The karma is him leaving me for your ass

IceTiger_Yuri @yuriplisetsky: Someone’s a bit salty. Get over yourself no one likes a bitch especially someone who leaks their EX’S nudes

Assyl-Baby @goldenprincessassyl2: I’m proud to be a bitch honey. At least im not a freak whos afraid of sex. You really think Otabek would like someone like you? Don’t make me laugh

Assyl-Baby @goldenprincessassyl2: were you fucking traumatised in your past? Asexual? Yeah more like looking for attention. Your ass is going to get dumped once he figures out how messed up you are

Otabek swallowed thickly, his heart sinking to his stomach. Yuri hadn’t replied after that, and Assyl had tweeted at him gloating and calling him a coward. Oh Yuri. Assyl had been called out by not only Yuri’s fans, but the people from the LGBTQ community had jumped on him as well. It was a matter of time before he got banned, but that wouldn’t be enough. Otabek was sure he heard a tooth crack as he clenched his jaw. Okay, now he didn’t even care about the nudes; he had attacked Yuri for something completely unrelated. Yuri was very vocal on social media about being ace, and demi, but Assyl had hit a new low for using it to attack him. He shut his laptop so hard that the screen might have cracked. He was going to press charges, sue him for all he was worth, and run him out of the fucking country.

Otabek’s father picked him up from the airport, insisting that Anes and their coaches come with them rather than take a taxi home. Otabek wanted nothing more than to go straight to sleep, but Kerim and his family had come over for dinner and his mother and Lunara had cooked a feast.

“Beka, a word.” Kerim pulled him into their father’s study.

“Now?” he grumbled. “I just got off a thirteen hour flight. I’m hungry, I’m tired, I need to shower.”

Kerim raised an eyebrow, perching himself on the edge of the billiard table. Otabek sighed heavily, leaning against the closed door. He took his glasses off, to rub his eyes and blindly wandered into one of the armchairs.

“I’ve already talked to my lawyer, and my PR team got most of the pictures down.”

“There’s more than one?”

“No, just the one, but I guess it was on multiple sites.”

He swore softly. “I guess that answers my question if it was photoshopped or not. Do you know how it got there?”

He swallowed. “My ex.”

He heard the leather armchair next to him squeek as Kerim sat down. “Which one?”

“Assyl. The one that Damira and Hadiya set me up with.”

“So, what’s the story?”

“He’s still mad that I dumped him for Yuri. And he was kind of a gold digger, I guess, but I only found out about it afterwards. He wasn’t the best person, personality wise.”

“That’s the one that Yuri got into a fight with?”

“Yeah.”

“Allah, Beka, you date the worst people.”

“Yuri-”

“Yuri is the exception . So, you have everything under control with your lawyers?”

“Yeah.”

Kerim leaned over to squeeze his shoulder. “Well if you need any help, I know people. We’re not going to let this go unchecked. I don’t care if he’s Damira’s family, he’s going to regret this.”

Otabek blinked, wiping his glasses with the edge of his shirt. “Thanks.”

Kerim smiled, squeezing his shoulder again. “I have to cover my idiot brother’s mistakes. Don't’ have much of a choice.”

“Maalik is the idiot brother.”

“Maalik doesn't have nudes on the internet.”

Otabek focused on his lap, his face and ears starting to steam. Kerim was nearly eighteen years older than him, and he switched between dad and brother mode way too much for Otabek’s liking.

“Do Ma and Dad know?”

“I didn’t tell them. But you should bring it up before they find out on their own.”

Yeah, he knew that. His mother would probably have a heart attack if she stumbled upon them somehow.

“Ma is going to freak out, though,” Kerim grinned, poking Otabek's shoulder. “That her little baby is going around sending naked pictures to people.”

Otabek rolled his eyes, putting his glasses back on. “That’s not the even worst thing I’ve done.”

Kerim laughed. “I know. You’re a celebrity; I know what people like you get up to. And I’ve seen your boyfriend; I can’t even imagine what you’d do to that poor boy in bed.”

Otabek snorted. If only he knew.

Talking to his parents about his nudes, had been the hardest conversation he had ever had. His father hadn’t said much, just stared at him with solemn eyes. His mother on the other hand had gone off the rails. She had yelled at him for being so stupid, so impulsive, but then, like a switch, she had gone off at Assyl as well. If his dad hadn’t taken her phone away from her she would have called up Damira and made sure that world war three would come into fruition. She had calmed down somewhat when Otabek had told her was going to press charges and that he was meeting with his lawyer tomorrow. His father had blinked in surprise and Otabek didn’t know exactly why that made him feel like shit.

“I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else.” He ended the conversation, hanging his head.

His mother hugged him, burying her nose his hair. “We’re pleased that you did, altynym.”

“It was a mistake, Beka.” His father’s voice was gruff as he squeezed his shoulder. “A silly mistake, but I couldn’t be any prouder that you're on your way to taking care of everything."

Otabek left his parents room with his face steaming and his stomach rolling. He didn't feel relieved at all. 

Sitting on his bed, after he had showered, Otabek pulled up a number he thought he’d never have to call again. He shouldn’t be calling, a part of him said, but he needed to find out why. Even if Assyl hated him that much, why had he gone so far as to post his nudes online? His heart started to race as the phone rang, but his mouth tasted like fire. If anything he wanted to let him know that he was taking him to court over this.

“I thought I told you to lose my number?”

“You know why I’m calling.” Otabek ground his teeth, trying not to punch a hole in his bedroom door.

Assyl snorted as if he’d said something funny. “You fucking deserved it.”

“I deserved it?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What the fuck? What kind of sick asshole are you? I broke up with you, so you posted my nudes on the fucking internet and sent around a direct link? What the actual fuck?”

“I bet you’re feeling embarrassed and confused, hmmm?”Had he actually dated someone with a voice that annoying? “Like someone brought you to an internationally covered event and dumped you in front of everyone?”

He had to close his eyes and take a deep, calming breath. Yelling wouldn’t get him anywhere. If anything Assyl wanted him to yell. “I gave you closure, I told you why I was breaking up with you. I told you none of it was your fault and I paid for your ticket back home.”

Assyl hummed. “Guess a plane ticket wasn’t enough for stringing me along for what three months?”

Otabek was shaking; he felt pressure building in his chest and behind his eyes. “I guess not.” He spat. “I also guess it wasn’t enough that you started a fight with my boyfriend, nearly gouged his eye out, and tried to burn him to a crisp in the sun either.”

“Bitch deserved it too.”

Okay, Otabek, deep breath. “Okay, then, so it’s also fair that I’ll be pressing charges against you.”

“What? You’re going to the police ?” Oh, he sounded worried now. It was a sort of dull satisfaction that built in his stomach.

“I’ve already spoken to my lawyers-”

“You don’t have to go that far. Look, I’ll take the picture down-”

“No. You’re not getting away like that-”

“Otabek-”

“I’ll see you in court, Assyl. Don’t try to contact me before then.”

"Wait-"

He hung up, pressing the end button so hard he heard his thumb smash against the glass. That bitch. He wasn’t even the least bit sorry about anything he’d done. He was fucking proud that he had hurt Yuri. He stood, and began pacing around his room, squeezing his hands and trying to keep his breathing even. That bitch. How could he have dated him in the first place? How hadn’t he seen that he only wanted him for money and status? How hadn’t he seen what a bitch he was? It should have been obvious from the beginning. No one would be that sweet, or have been fucking enthralled with him before he even did or said anything unless they were after something else. Fuck. He was such an idiot. He ground his teeth together wincing as his enamel scrapped roughly. Maybe he did deserve having his nudes leaked. If he couldn’t spot what a terrible person Assyl was, then maybe he deserved whatever shit was coming to him. He slammed the side of his fist against his bookcase, causing both the ceiling and floor to shake. His throat hurt and his vision was going blurry. He deserved this black mark on his career.

Collapsing into his desk chair, he removed his glasses when his eyelashes left wet smudges on them. Who the fuck asked for nudes before two months of dating, when they saw each other almost every day, when they fucked liked three times a week. And what kind of idiot sent them? He had learnt early on that he had to be careful. With a name like Altin and with the fame from his career, people were always looking for a quick payout and were ruthless with blackmail. And he was always careful; so, why the hell had he let his guard down around Assyl? He kicked his desk and his computer woke up, his sound mixing program popping up. Because Hadiya had set them up? Because he trusted Damira? He was such an idiot. He leaned over on his desk, covering his eyes with his hands. He did deserve all this shit.

He jumped, wiping his face when a FaceTime call came in. Perfect timing. He squinted at his computer, able to make out Yuri’s blond hair and the green and red buttons below. He couldn’t straight up hit decline; but he still didn’t know what he was going to say to him. Sorry I’m such a whore?

He hit answer, wiping his face and searching for his glasses.

“Beka?” Yuri sounded a bit uneasy.

“Yeah, one second,” he mumbled. “My glasses,” He found them near his wrapped up headphones, and put them on, hoping they would hide his eyes. “Hey, what’s up?”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Otabek deflated, slumping into his chair. “You saw the pictures?”

“Yeah.” There was a moment’s pause. “Are you okay? I tried calling you a bunch of times but-”

“Sorry, I was talking to my lawyer, then travel... and fuck, Yura I’m so sorry.”

Yuri blinked, his huge green eyes going owlishly wide. “Why are you apologising?”

“I sent them to him.” He had to wipe his eyes again. “I shouldn’t have-”

Yuri cut him off. “Okay, I don’t really get the whole naked picture thing. I mean... I understand why you’d do it, but Assyl was a hundred percent wrong here. You don’t... you don’t go around sending out people’s nudes even if you hate them. That’s just sick and wrong. And fuck, Beka, if you’re blaming yourself for this then I’m going to punch you.”

He chuckled bitterly. “So you’re not mad at me?”

Yuri snarled. “What would I be mad at you? I’m mad at you for not answering my fucking calls! But this isn’t about that, it’s about your asshole ex being the scum of the earth. And I swear, Beka, I’m going to find him and punch his face in.”

“You’re not mad at me for sending nudes?”

Yuri paused, his mouth dropping open slightly and just like that, Otabek saw the fight leave him. He settled down, letting his shoulders fall into their natural slouch and tucked his hair behind his ears with both hands. “Okay. That’s fair; I’m ace. I don’t get turned on by sexy pictures, but I get why people like them. I get why you would take them and send them to someone. I’m not stupid or naive, stop acting like I am.”

Otabek took a deep breath, feeling something curl up inside him and die. “I guess I still have a lot to learn.”

Yuri cleared his throat. “Yeah. Kinda, me too, I guess.” He pulled out a cat shaped pillow from the pile of pillows behind him, and cuddled it to his chest. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. Are you okay?”

Otabek swallowed, his throat swelling and closing instantly. His eyes stung, but the more he blinked the wetter they became. It was amazing how fast that simple question disarmed him.

“Beka?” Yuri’s voice was soft.

“I can’t believe this is happening to me, Yura.” His voice cracked at least three times. “I don’t know how I’m supposed face anyone. How I’m supposed to compete? No one’s going to take me seriously any more, I’m going to lose all my sponsors, and...” he couldn’t continue, taking off his glasses once again, to wipe his face. “I’ve never been so embarrassed before.”

When he looked up Yuri’s face was scrunched up and red. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” He took a deep breath, yanking at a lock of hair. “Okay, you’re not going to lose all your sponsors. You're too good of an athlete for that. I’ll fucking sponsor you for God’s sake.” Otabek tried to chuckle. “And this whole thing will blow over soon enough.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

Yuri bit his lip, and looked down for a split second before he brought his hand up to chew at one of his fingernails. “Okay, don’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you, or I will kill you when I come for Assyl.” He waited until Otabek had nodded. He took a deep breath, checking over his shoulder for something, and Otabek’s stomach quivered at the thought of what grave secret he was about to tell him. “Viktor has a few nudes floating around.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it happened when he was like twenty or something, his phone got hacked. Or so he said. Anyway, Yakov knows this like computer guy who got most of them deleted in like a few hours, but there are a few that are still out there.”

Otabek blinked slowly. Viktor Nikiforov, Viktor Katsuki-Nikiforov, had nudes online. He had to hold onto the armrests of his chair.

“See,” Yuri said, twisting a lock of his hair around his finger. “You didn’t know. I mean, well, a lot of people don’t, but if Viktor can get over it, you can too. It’s going to disappear soon.”

“But Viktor is also the kind of person that would happily do a nude photoshoot.” He exhaled in amusement, shaking his head.

“That’s beside the point, Beka.” He rolled his eyes.

Otabek sighed softly, shaking his head. “I’m taking him to court. We don’t have a date yet, but it’ll probably be after the GPF.”

Yuri nodded. “Well, don’t worry. If someone so much as looks at you the wrong way there, I’m gonna fight them.”

Otabek chuckled for real this time. “I know you would.”

Still panting from his exercises, Otabek rolled onto his back, reaching out for his phone that he had set to the side. Physio was always a bitch after his knee acted up, but if he was still going to the GPF, he needed to be in perfect shape. The electrotherapy helped and his freezer had so many ice packs his mom had begun to consider buying him a mini fridge for his room. The yoga mat didn't offer the best cushioning, but he was too tired to move and his knee was throbbing dully from the stretches. He had heard his phone vibrate while he was finishing up his last floor exercise, and grinned to see that it was a message from Yuri. But he dropped it when he opened it. Rubbing his forehead, where the phone had nearly knocked him out, he held it back over his head. Yup, he’d seen correctly the first time. That was most definitely a picture of Yuri; a full body mirror selfie, he was standing sideways one leg cocked, arching his back beautifully. Otabek had to check his pulse, because Yuri was dressed in his highest heels, a pair of shiny, black shoes with a thin strap across the ankle, shimmery, black, thigh-high stockings, and a tiny, leopard-print thong. His hair was carelessly thrown over his shoulder, but hung down his back in loose waves. His lips were pouty and dangerously red, mouth open lazily around a single finger. The dark makeup around his eyes made them seem even greener, and of course, he was wearing a black choker. Otabek had thought he wasn’t able to move before, now he was positive. His brain was short circuiting; he forgot how to move his fingers, just remembering that he needed to breathe, and stared at the picture until his screen went dark.

Otabek was winded, and not even from the physio. The only thing that brought him back was another message from Yuri.

Yura:  
Well?

He swallowed, tapping out of the image preview and back to the message screen.

Me:  
I don’t even know what to say

Yura:  
Your next sentence better start with you like it

Me:  
I do!  
You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life  
I love you so much

Yura:  
You’re such a fucking sap

Me:  
And proud

He swallowed, biting his lip. But, what had brought this on?

Me:  
I thought you didn’t get the whole sexy pic thing?

The ellipses bounced at the bottom of the screen, stopping a few times before his next message came in.

Yura:  
But you like them  
I don’t mind doing something if you like it  
I like that you like it

Otabek breathed in deeply through his nose. He loved this man so much it was ridiculous.

Me:  
Don’t send me any nudes tho

Yura:  
Why not?

Me:  
Are you seriously asking that question?  
Now?

Yura:  
It’s not like you're going to leak them  
And we’re not going to break up

Otabek’s lungs squeezed every last bit of air out of him then refused to let him take in any more.

Me:  
We aren’t?

Yura:  
Nope :)  
We’re going to get married and live together with five cats.

He snickered.

Me:  
And two dogs

Yura:  
One dog  
And a snake  
A python  
Besides you break up with me and I know for a fact Katsudon and Viktor will hunt you down and feed you your own balls.

Right. Yes. Viktor was terrifying when he was angry, but Yuuri was in a league of his own. Otabek had thought that he was going to wet himself then pass out from fear.

Yura:  
Then Lilia will pull off your fingernails one by one

Me:  
Well I guess I’m never breaking up with you

Yura:  
:)

Grinning, Otabek took a few seconds to decide on what he wanted to say next.

Me:  
It’s not like I want to anyway  
I love you way too much

Yura:  
I am literally vomiting right now

Otabek was smiling so hard, he could barely see anything. He honestly didn’t deserve this boy, but he would do anything in the world to keep him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These idiots :)


	2. Part Two - Patch Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With his world shaken after his ex leaked his nudes, Otabek goes to Saint Petersburg for a much needed escape. But trying to convince himself that everything is alright once again, proves harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to [TehLastUnicron](https://tehlastunicron.tumblr.com/) who lets me scream headcanons at her all day long :)  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> See end notes for chapter warnings

Exhausted wasn’t the right word. Otabek could barely move his feet as he shuffled into Lilia’s apartment, wishing that he could absorb some of Yuri’s endless energy. Yuri was bouncing all over the place, dancing around on the balls of his feet as he flitted around him. He should have been more excited to see his boyfriend after so long, but all he really wanted was a shower and to sleep for ten hours. He threw himself onto the couch, sighing in relief and letting his eyes fall shut. Lilia had the scratchiest, and most uncomfortable throw cushions - she and his mom would get along perfectly - but he didn’t even care that a zipper was stabbing him in the side.

“Hey, so uh, we don’t really have any food,” Yuri said, suddenly appearing behind him and running his fingers through his hair. Otabek sighed through his nose, tilting his head to silently ask for a massage. “I was supposed to cook, but I ended up cleaning and… we can just order something instead.”

“Sure.”

Yuri huffed, lightly grazing his nails along his scalp. “Sorry, ugh, everything was so rushed, and Lilia wasn't even here to help.”

Yeah, his trip had been rushed. He’d only decided on it this morning, but he had to leave Almaty for a while. Yuri might have been joking when he had told him to come, but he’d booked a ticket and packed his bags in less than three hours anyway.

“You _cleaned_ for me?” He asked, cracking an eye open, and tilting his head back to smirk at Yuri. He was still dressed in a grey leotard with sweatpants and a jacket hurriedly pulled over. He had also noticed dance tights peeking from between the top of his sneakers and hem of his pants.

Yuri leaned over the couch, grinning upside-down, and pressed a light kiss right between Otabek’s eyebrows. “Just the bathroom; don’t get ahead of yourself, Altin.”

Otabek scoffed softly; his eyelids felt like lead, but he still needed to shower before he even thought about sleep. But just sitting here, with Yuri massaging his head was good too.

“What do you feel like?” Yuri asked.

“Like I got run over by a bus.”

“I meant to eat.”

“Anything.”

Yuri patted his cheek, hard, but not hard enough to hurt.

The shower was glorious; he had to smile at how Yuri had arranged all his soaps and shampoos, and the faint, chemical scent of bathroom cleaner. Hot water against plane-stiffened muscles was amazing, and he took a minute to just stand under the spray, letting his chin touch his chest. And it was just standing there that all the long days and restless nights of the past few months caught up with him. Days stuck in a courtroom, or in his lawyer’s office going over files, dodging the paparazzi, and meeting with his sponsors and on top of that, he’d been unable to sleep, his mind restless even as his body begged for a break. He watched the water swirl around his feet and into the drain, even as it dripped from his hair and stung his eyes, treatening to wash out his contacts.

“I was about to check on you.” Yuri offered a small smile when Otabek exited the bathroom. “Thought you fell asleep in there.” He was curled up on the couch with Potya on his lap, and freshly showered too; his hair hung on either side of his head in two damp braids.

He sighed, plopping himself down next to him and reaching across to stroke Potya. “Just thinking.”

Yuri snuggled against his side and he raised an arm, resting it around his shoulders. “Yeah, but you’re done with all that shit now, right? You can just rest now.”

Otabek sighed deeply. The final court date had been just three days ago, and technically everything was done, but he was still big news in Almaty and the pictures had resurfaced once the media had found out that the date for the case had been set. He had never had to hire a bodyguard before then either.

“Yeah.” He should rest; he needed to. Yuri pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw as Potya grumbled in annoyance when he jostled her. He scratched the incredibly soft fur behind her ear to quieten her.

“Okay, so food and bed for you?” Yuri asked softly.

“Yeah. What did you order?”

“A few things from like one of the three places Lilia lets me eat at.” Otabek scoffed. “Shut up. I take my career seriously, you know.”

“I know.” He kept on forgetting there were two versions of Yuri. One that would eat anything in front of him, and the other that would scream at fat, sugar, and carbs.

“I got us wild rice, cooked spinach salad with chickpeas and cranberries, and salmon with lemon dressing.”

Otabek nodded. Yeah, his on-season diet was impeccable. But when he looked across at his lean thigh with a defined line of muscle down the side, he really did appreciate it. They moved to the island to eat, Yuri still walking with a light bounce in his step, and they sat close enough together that their arms brushed as they ate.

“So, I have to go into the studio at like six tomorrow, then I’m Yakov’s for the day. I mean, you can tag along or hide out here. Lilia said I could give you a spare key and the buzzer code if you wanted to do your own thing.”

Otabek shrugged; he really didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even know how long he would end up staying in Saint Petersburg. He knew he should try to train, or at least go to the gym - Lilia’s apartment complex had a pretty good one in the basement, but he’d see how he felt tomorrow.

Yuri nudged him with his shoulder. “Beka, it’s gonna be okay. You’re done an over with that asshole, and he got everything he deserved.”

He tried to smile, but ended up staring into his rice with his jaw clenched, until Potya let out a long, frustrated meow and stretched up to knead his calf, already licking her lips.

“You already ate,” Yuri scolded her, peering over Otabek’s lap.

“Can I give her some fish?” Otabek asked, smiling as he looked down at her.

“No, she knows she doesn’t get food from the table. She’s only trying cause you’re new.”

Otabek shrugged. “Sorry, Princess.” He reached down to scratch under her chin. She sniffed his hand hopefully. “Daddy said no.”

He had tumbled into Yuri’s bed not much later, his limbs falling like sacks of potatoes. Even his head felt heavy and cloudy. He yawned, tugging a pillow towards him and wrinkled his nose, cracking his an eye back open when his knuckles hit a foil wrapper. The crinkling sound made his skin crawl. Why, Yuri?

“When last have you changed your sheets?” he grumbled, fishing out the protein bar wrapper and tossing it in the direction of the trash can. It fluttered to the floor in a silver blur, and if he wasn’t so tired he would have gotten up and disposed of it _properly_.

Yuri squirmed from his side of the bed. “It’s not like they smell.” They smelt of him, strongly so, but not in a bad way; his natural scent was not something Otabek would ever find unappealing. “Like two days ago, I think.”

Otabek sighed, pressing his face against the pillow. “You need to stop eating in bed.”

Yuri scoffed, snuggling down under the comforter and forcing one of his feet between Otabek’s calves. Otabek smiled raising an arm to allow him to snuggle against his chest. Yuri tucked himself under his chin, leaving Otabek to press a soft, slow kiss to the crown of his head.

“I missed you.” Yuri mumbled, his words breathing across Otabek’s neck.

He lazily smoothed his hand up and down Yuri’s spine, letting his eyes fall shut again. “I missed you too.”

Their plans to spend time together at the Grand Prix Final had fallen apart. The media was ravenous and Otabek’s knee was in poor shape. Both Tair and Gennadiy had advised him to take some time off to recuperate both mentally and physically. Even if he couldn't admit it aloud, he was in no shape to compete at the Grand Prix. Yuri had tired not to sound disappointed when Otabek had broken the news to him, but Otabek knew better. Either way, it had been months since they had seen each other in person. He tightened his arms around Yuri’s waist, breathing in deeply. The smell of his shampoo was refreshing and familiar.

“How…” Yuri swallowed, Otabek felt his back move. “How are you, though. I mean with all-”

“I’m okay.” He opened his eyes again to glare at the wall.

“Stop lying.”

“No, I’m… not lying. I…” he sighed. “I’m better now that it’s done.”

“Beka-”

“Really. But I… I just needed to get away from Almaty. There’s just too much going on-”

“I know _that_ part.” Yuri uncurled himself, and smoothed his palm across Otabek’s cheek. “I mean, like…” he ended in a huff.

Otabek turned his head, pressing his lips to the centre of his palm. He regretted taking out his contacts, because Yuri’s face was a blur. He wrapped his hand around his wrist, smoothing his index finger over the bone. “I’m feeling better.” He felt, rather than heard, Yuri sigh. “We can talk later, I just… not tonight.”

“Okay, yeah. Sorry, you’re exhausted.”

He hummed, tugging Yuri back against him. He let his eyes fall shut, giving into the stiff, tired soreness in his muscles. Yuri was still moving around, restless as usual, but Otabek was falling deeper and deeper into the mattress. The last thing he remembered was Yuri working at a knot at the back of his neck and the pillow he had pressed his face against smelt strongly of his natural scent. He didn’t even wake up when Yuri got out of bed that morning. What woke him up was a furry paw pressed to his nose as Potya walked across his face. He scowled in her direction, but he could be too sure, because Yuri had gotten black and white tiger-striped sheets, fluffy throw pillows to match. He rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow and inhaling until his lungs hurt.

But, he had lied, last night to Yuri; he wasn’t okay.

Rolling onto his back, he threw his hand over his face and pressed his knuckles against his closed eyes. He still felt like weights were tied to his limbs and something was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He had expected to feel better once he had left Almaty, but he knew now that the exhaustion wasn’t from the flight. He should have felt better, though. He was through with all the court drama, done with all the meetings and PR campaigns; he should have been relieved. But, his stomach was still tight and refused to go back to normal, the back of his neck itched, and everything just felt _grey_.

Even when Yuri had met him at the airport, his hug and kiss hadn’t even felt real. Scoffing at himself, he reached over to the nightstand for his glasses and phone. His mother had texted and called him last night and he sighed heavily, tapping open the app to answer her. A text would had to suffice; he wasn’t in the mood to talk. Yuri had also messaged him, telling him where all the breakfast food was, and that he’d left his keys on the counter incase he wanted to go out. He also had some free time for lunch, if he wanted to get something to eat together.

Otabek hesitated on that one. He hadn’t seen Yuri in months, he should have been jumping at the idea of a lunch date, but he just felt tired. So. Fucking. Tired. He set his phone on the mattress, sinking down until he was on his back again. The message went unanswered as he stared up at the ceiling, letting the weight of reality slowly seep into his bones.

A low purring noise had Otabek jolting awake. When had he even fallen asleep? He blinked, pushing his glasses up his nose, to find Potya sitting on his chest, her tail swishing back and forth behind her. Otabek sighed, scratching her under her chin.

“Yeah, I know I’ve been in bed for too long,” he grumbled, watching as her ear twitched towards him.

Yuri’s curtains did a good job of blocking out light, but he could tell that it was late in the day. Yeah, he picked up his phone to check the time. Two. he sighed heavily, pushing his glasses out of the way to pinch his nose. He really needed to get out of bed, to shower at least, and unpack his bags. But as he looked down his nose at Potya who had curled up on his chest, watching him with huge, sky-blue eyes, he knew he wasn’t getting up soon. He took a picture of her and sent it to Yuri as an apology for missing lunch.

Yuri texted back after a short moment. 

Yura:  
You’re only now waking up?  
Fuck you must have really been exhausted.

Slight guilt gnawed at Otabek’s lungs.

Me:  
Yeah. Didn’t realise how tired I was, sorry about lunch.

Yura:  
It’s fine.  
You’re here to rest, right?

Otabek sighed, trying to smile but even those muscles were tired.

Me:  
I guess. But we’ll get lunch.  
Tomorrow

Yura:  
Can’t tomorrow  
One of Lilia’s assistants is helping me and the only spare time she has is during lunch.

His stomach tightened. He should have just gotten his ass out of bed to go meet his boyfriend.

Me:  
We can figure it out when you come home tonight then

Yura:  
Yeah  
Oh and you can just kick Potya out of the room if she gets too annoying

Me:  
I would never

Yura:  
You say that now

The smile finally broke through and he scratched behind Potya’s ears. She hadn’t been that troublesome yet. She butted her head against his palm, purring again. Otabek’s phone vibrated nearly blending in with her.

Yura:  
Got to go, Yakov is yelling

The ellipses danced for a while at the bottom of the screen as Yuri typed and stopped then started again.

Yura:  
Love you  
See you tonight

Me:  
Yeah  
Love you too

He sighed again, something swirling inside his stomach and chest.

“Okay, Potya,” he mumbled, picking her up so he could sit upright. “Time to get up.”

“I brought dinner!” Yuri yelled, through the front door and kicked it. The knocking was way too low for him to have used his hand.

Otabek scrambled from the couch to unlock the door, just remembering that he’d left his keys with him. “Hey,” he answered, opening the door. Yuri’s hair was windswept from the mid-February winds and he was nearly hunched over from the weight of his gym bags. He still beamed at Otabek, bending for a kiss.

“Hey,” he pecked him gently on the lips, before shoving his way inside. Otabek blinked, snapping to attention and reaching out for the bags of food he was also carrying. “How was your day?”

“Uh,” He shrugged, setting the plastic bag on the island and turning to watch Yuri kick off his sneakers. “It was quiet.”

Yuri smiled. “That’s good, right?”

He hesitated. “Yeah.”

Yuri had been walking on the balls of his feet, bouncing with each step to the kitchen, froze and narrowed his eyes. “Beka-”

“I needed quiet.” He tried to fix it. “Just to clear my head a little.”

Yuri huffed closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Otabek’s waist. “Hey,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to his forehead. “I know I already asked last night, but are you okay-”

“Yes, Yura. I’m fine.” He rested his palms to Yuri’s hips, drumming his fingers against the bone. “But, please, go shower before you hug me. You stink.”

Yuri scoffed, pulling away. “I’ve been training all day!”

“I know and you stink.”

He rolled his eyes, then gasped softly and dropped to the floor. “And you, baby?” Potya was purring, winding around his ankles as he stroked her back. “I hope you were good for Beka.”

Otabek chuckled, leaning against the corner of the island. “She was good company. Except when she walked across my face to wake me up.”

Yuri snorted and looked up at Otabek with laughing eyes. “That’s my girl.”

The next two days weren’t any better. He wasn’t able to fall asleep that night, tossing and turning over every so often as Yuri snored light next to him. He was too antsy to fall into a deep sleep, but too exhausted to stay fully awake and spent the entire night in a sort of half-sleep, aware of everything around him, but unable to move. Like he was in a coma.

Yuri woke up at the crack of dawn on the days he went to the ballet studio before practice at the rink. He wiggled soundlessly out of bed after giving Otabek a soft peck on the temple. Otabek would wake himself up enough to wish him a good day, but would fall back asleep when he heard the front door shut.

The hours passed in a slow haze and he moved between Yuri’s bed and the couch with a book in hand and stared at the words without seeing them. His skin was itching and he needed to move around or he was positive that he’d go insane, but at the same time he didn’t have the energy to get off the couch. He ended up scrolling through all his unread messages on the third day. Iska had been keeping him updated on everything back home, but he hadn’t opened their chat in days. The others were trying to be supportive as well, but he couldn’t bring himself to open their messages either. His mother had been religiously sending him good morning and good night messages, and checking up on his a few times during the day. His replies were embarrassingly sparse too.

He tapped out of the message app, sighing heavily. Yeah, he knew he was being an ass. Everyone cared about him so much, and were trying their best to help and he didn’t want to talk to a single one of them.

His stomach clenched in guilt and he opened up his contact page and tapped on his mother’s number. She answered almost immediately and he dragged his hand down his face, after setting his glasses on the side table.

“Hi, Ma,” he mumbled, his throat already tightening. “Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you, sweetheart. How’s Saint Petersburg?”

He took a deep breath, tucking his legs underneath him and leaning against the armrest of the couch. “I still don’t feel… good.”

She sighed softly. “That will come with time, _zhanym_. What’s important is that you can move forward and put all this behind you.”

He huffed. How was that supposed to help him?

“I know you, Beka, you think about the past too much.” He grumbled a response. “Have you been eating well? I hope you’re not keeping yourself locked up in the apartment either. You need fresh air.”

“Ma,” he sighed, looking down at his pyjama pants.

“Okay?”

“Yes, _Anam_.”

“Good.” He could hear her smile. “How’s Yuri?”

Otabek swallowed, for some reason his gut unclenched and his breath came easier. “Yuri’s fine. He’s usually gone all day for training-”

“You should go with him.”

“My knee, Ma-”

“You don’t have to skate.” She sighed heavily. “Just get out and do something, talk to people. It will help.”

He somehow doubted that. “Yeah, tomorrow maybe.”

“You should video call us sometime. Your father would like that.”

“ _Dad_?”

She chuckled softly. “We haven’t seen Yuri in a while.”

His cheeks heated. “I’ll ask him.”

“Don’t _forget_.” He rolled his eyes. “And, _zhanym_ , keep your head up. Remember to use the time to relax, because once you come back home, everything is going to start over, and I know with your training you won’t have a moment to yourself. ”

“Yes, Ma.”

“I love you, Bekem.”

A small smile stretched a corner of his mouth. “Love you too, Mama.”

“And call more! Oh Allah, Otabek, sometimes I forget the sound of your voice.” He chuckled softly, listening to her go on about how her week had been. When he’d come back from America years ago, she’d spend hours with him gossiping about anyone and anything, it should have been annoying, but he had liked it. Leaning against the back of the couch, he breathed out easily; he should have called sooner.

Relax, Otabek breathed out heavily once he’d hung up. He hadn’t done anything at all for the past three days, but his entire body was still tense and heavy. Everything was wound up so tightly that there was a dull pain behind his eyes. Slipping back on his glasses, he reopened the messaging app and scrolled all the way down to a week old message thread.

Me:  
Hey, this is kind of a weird question

He paused, maybe he should have started with a ‘hello, what’s up?’ He ground his teeth together hoping Mila wouldn’t be too offended. It took her a while to respond. Long enough for him to get up, fish out a box of granola from the cupboard and take a quick shower, hoping that it would help him to wake up fully. His lock screen was full of message notifications when he got back.

Mila Babicheva:  
Hey!  
What’s up?  
Heard you’re in Piter now

He sighed shortly, tapping out a reply.

Me:  
Yeah  
I’m gonna be here for a while

Mila Babicheva:  
That’s great! We’ll have to meet up on one of my off days :)  
So, what was it you needed?

He held his breath, but then shook his head. He was positive that Yuri had told her almost everything about him anyway. And Mila was usually cool about most things.

Me:  
Do you know where I can get any edibles?  
Like…  
Brownies or something?

Wait should he clarify about the weed part? He was about to type out more, but Mila was already answering.

Mila Babicheva:  
Hmmm  
I don’t know anywhere personally but I can ask around.  
Give me a few minutes :)

Me:  
Thanks

Mila Babicheva:  
No problem  
Hope you feel better soon, tho

Feel better soon? He stared at the message. He wasn’t sick; had Yuri told her something?

Me:  
Feel better?

Mila Babicheva:  
Oh, Yuri said you were still kinda depressed

Depressed? He sighed; of course Yuri was worried about him. Of course he would have noticed that something was off.

Me:  
I just needed a break.  
It’s not a big deal  
Don’t worry about me.

She took a few minutes to reply.

Mila Babicheva:  
I can only imagine  
You deserve a fucking break

She typed for another while before sending through a location. He tapped it open and squinted at his screen, a bakery?

Mila Babicheva:  
This place may be a bit pricey, but I was told that it’s worth it  
Also you’ll have to ask for the edibles since they don’t really want word to get out that they sell them

Okay, that sounded slightly sketchy, but he wouldn’t doubt Mila.

Me:  
Thanks

Mila Babicheva:  
No problem!  
Like I said, you fucking deserve it

He smiled bitterly at the screen. Yeah, he deserved it.

It was weird to think that this was the first time he’d put on jeans in three days. He was turning into a mess; his mom had been right. But he was going out now. He ground his teeth together as he buckled his belt and pulled a sweater over his head. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and then spent nearly five minutes looking for his coat, before he remembered that it was hanging on the coat rack by the door. Rolling his eyes at himself, he made sure that he had the keys Yuri had left on the island, and took a picture of the post-it note on the fridge with the door code. He tossed Potya a treat before he left and listened to her chomping down on it before closing the door behind him.

Saint Petersburg winters were like ten times worse than Alamaty’s. He had no clue how Yuri could run around in just a denim jacket over his hoodie and not even wear gloves. His leather ones weren’t cutting it either. He pulled his scarf up over his nose, knowing that his breath was going to make his glasses fog up that way, and wishing that he had brought a hat with him as well.

It was almost weird being outside after three days. The sun was a thing, even if he was still literally freezing his balls off. Snow and salt crunched under his feet as he made his way to the train station. He kept his head hung low, spine tingling every time someone passed by. They didn’t know who he was, he had to remind himself; this wasn’t Almaty where he could be recognised by his _shoes_. No one cared about him here; he forced himself to take a deep breath and continue on.

He sat in a corner on the train, staring out the opposite window as graffitied tunnel walls zoomed past. The music blasting through his earbuds was loud enough to cover the rumble of the train but he still nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard snickering. Slowly, with building dread, he turned to two girls sitting on the bench opposite him. They were whispering behind their palms, laughing, blushing, and occasionally looking his way.

Ice dropped into Otabek’s stomach while his face heated enough to steam. He looked away, focusing on his hands in his lap. They were shaking, on their own and not from the rumbling of the train. He grit his teeth and clenched his palms. Just ignore them, he told himself. But, what if they were laughing at him for a reason? What if they had seen the picture? What if they had recognised him? Fuck. Dizzy, he was suddenly dizzy, the train's shaking going straight to his head. His ears were burning, too, at the thought that two random Russian girls had seen him naked. The whole world had probably seen him naked by now. He should have stayed inside; he didn’t need to draw any more attention to himself.

Stop being paranoid, he growled at himself. A few months ago, he would have just assumed that the girls were trying to flirt. He took deep breath, that’s probably all it was. _No one_ knew him here. He glanced back at them, and yeah he was being paranoid. He knew that look; they thought he was cute. He should have felt relief once he nodded at them and they turned back to each other blushing and giggling, but his stomach was still tight and his hands were still shaking. _They_ hadn’t recognised him, but someone else might.

The bakery was a small red brick building with blue awnings and a large window. A bell jingled as he entered and it looked like it was run by a little, old lady and not somewhere he should have been going to get weed. Still, he was able to get a a few brownies, double chocolate, and a pack of ‘sugar’ cookies, and a bag of peanut-butter balls. He ignored the cashier when he commented on him looking tense. He knew he’d bought way too much, and Yuri probably wouldn’t eat any, but if he was going to be in Saint Petersburg for a while he might need it. He also threw in a bag of catnip, from the display of hand-made pet treats. Yuri might not get high with him, but the cat would. Yeah, and he needed to relax.

“Uhhh, what’s this?”

Otabek looked lazily over his shoulder as Yuri appeared in the doorway. He was laying on the couch, half hanging off to scratch Potya’s belly as she babbled at him, and kneaded the air.

“Yura!” he grinned, sitting up. “You’re home.”

“Yeah,” Yuri raised an eyebrow, crossing the living room to give him a short peck on the mouth. Otabek surged upwards, holding on to either side of his jaw before he could pull away. He let him deepen the kiss, brining a hand up to cup the back of his head. Otabek grinned into the kiss, he tasted like strawberry-flavoured protein mix.

“Feeling better?” Yuri asked, biting back a smile when they broke apart.

“Yeah.” He smoothed away a lock of hair that had escaped from Yuri’s ponytail.

Yuri nuzzled against Otabek palm. “Good.” Then Potya grumbled loudly, swiping at his calf before stretching out. “What did you do to my cat?” he asked, sitting down and bending over to rub her chest.

“Catnip. It’s wearing off, though.”

Yuri’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god, did you at least get a video?”

Otabek chuckled, leaning against him to press his lips of the side of his neck. “Yeah. She went crazy.” He picked up his phone from the coffee table but when he tried to unlock it everything went blurry. Oh, wait glasses. He picked those up as well, wrapping his free arm around Yuri’s shoulders as he pulled up the video.

“Beka?” Yuri asked uneasily, going tense under his arm. “Are you okay?”

He found the video of Potya he wanted. “Yeah, look-”

“Wait, are you high?”

“Yeah.” He tapped the play button. “Look-”

“Beka! Where did you even find it? You’ve been here three days-”

“You’re not looking.” He frowned, turning to face Yuri, watching as his eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink.

“Sorry, uh. Let’s see.”

Otabek readjusted himself against his boyfriend’s side, tucking his leg under him and rested his cheek against his shoulder. He held up his phone, tapping the play button again already snickering at what he knew was going to happen. Potya was mewling as she attacked the air, running around a twisting her spine as she jumped straight up and pounced on invisible prey. She’d zoomed around the living room, tumbling around the legs of the coffee table. Yuri was giggled softly and Otabek felt his chest tighten in warmth. The next video had her chewing the hem of his pants and rubbing herself all over a spot on the carpet. And the next, video she was stretched out over his laptop keyboard, eyes glued to the screen as music played from iTunes.

“She looks like she’s listening,” Yuri smirked.

He nodded. “I started to make her a playlist.”

Yuri snorted. “You idiot.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He patted his cheek before kissing it softly.

Otabek couldn’t help but smile as he set his phone back down and turned to face Yuri fully. Even after a day full of training he was beautiful. His nose and cheeks were still pink from the cold outside, but his skin was glowing, even if he felt a little grimy when Otabek had kissed him. Now that he’d unbuttoned his coat, he could see the sweat marks around his collar of his t-shirt and down the centre of his chest. Still, his stomach was fluttering.

“You were at the gym?” he asked, focusing on how Yuri’s lips were parted slightly, just showing the tiniest bit of white teeth.

“Yeah, Viktor made me run two miles on the treadmill as a _cool-down_. I swear he’s trying to kill me.”

Otabek chuckled. “He’s just trying to increase your stamina.”

Yuri rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose, looking so cute right then that Otabek had no choice but to lean forward to kiss him again. He ducked away, though, slipping from the couch and pushing Otabek away with his palm.

“I’m going to shower. Sober you will kill me if I let you make out with me like this.”

Otabek scowled, folding his arms over his chest. “I would not. I love you too much.”

Yuri snorted, shaking his head as he grinned. “Yeah, I wouldn’t test that, though.”

The sound of water echoed out to the living room a few minutes later. Potya had been purring loudly cuddled up against his thigh as he stroked her back, but moved when Otabek turned to listen to the shower. Yuri’s bathroom was closest to the living room, right next to the guest room, with his room being the furthest down the hall. He could feel the high wearing off, but he didn’t need the THC to be insanely turned on by the image of Yuri showering. It was hard to breathe again, but this time in a good way, and with the shortest of pauses, rounded the couch to the bathroom door. He hoped it wasn’t locked.

It wasn’t and he mumbled a quick prayer of thanks to Allah as he cracked it open and slipped inside. Yuri’s bathroom was smaller than his back home in Almaty, but he had a large glass shower and a wide sink counter that was currently full of all his hair and facial products. He didn’t hear Otabek slip in and his eyes were closed as he rinsed out shampoo suds from his hair.

Something kicked Otabek telling him that this was a bad idea and he was definitely invading Yuri’s privacy, but he was here now and he couldn’t get himself to move. His mouth had also gone completely dry while heat pooled in his stomach and there suddenly wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. Yuri was gorgeous, standing with his back arched, face tilted up towards the spray. His hair hard darkened to a burnished gold, the water making it hang heavy down his back. Water ran in small streams down his body. Otabek knew he was self conscious about how pale he was, but looking at him now he was like a marble statue, carved to perfection. Otabek let his eyes trail down his sharp jawline, the curve of his throat and collarbones, to his delicately defined chest and down to an incredibly narrow waist, made even smaller by the long lines of his abs. Otabek had to remind himself to stop and breathe as Yuri shifted his weight from one leg to the other, muscles in his thighs shifting like molten steel. He started undressing, only catching himself when he ripped off his shirt, skewing his glasses and causing things to go out of focus.

Biting his lip in hesitation, he stopped with his thumb on his pants’ zipper. He didn’t think Yuri would be terribly mad at him, and they hadn’t seen each other since November anyway. He was in too deep already; his eyes dropping to Yuri’s ass, watching as water curved around the fullest part and dripped from the crease where it met his thigh. He’d make it up to him later if he did get mad. He shed his pants and underwear in less than a second, unashamed that he was already hard.

Yuri jumped when he opened the shower door, spinning around and nearly slipping on the wet tiles. Otabek wrapped an arm around his waist, palming his stomach and immediately kissing up the side of his neck.

“Beka!” Yuri admonished, but there was no heat behind it. “What… you couldn't wait?”

“No,” he hummed, sucking on the tendon that ran up behind his ear.

Yuri sighed, but leaned against him tilting his head to bare more of his neck. Otabek didn’t stop until a reddened patch appeared on his skin. His scent was still strongest there, even hidden under soap and water.

“So, you really do feel better,” Yuri mumbled, running his fingers through Otabek’s hair. “I was wondering when you were going to do this.” He should have been embarrassed by that, instead he chuckled, biting the shell of Yuri’s ear. “Is it just because you’re high?”

“It’s because you’re hot.”

Yuri giggled, slapping Otabek’s hand away when it trailed below his navel.

“You can tell me if you don’t want-”

Yuri huffed, leaning down to nip at the tip of his nose. “If I didn’t want it, I would have kicked you out already.”

“Fair.”

Yuri smiled, sealing their lips and pulling Otabek fully under the warm spray. They didn’t stay in the shower too long; Yuri was concerned about wasting water, but they had ended up in his room, not even bothering to towel off before Otabek had picked up him under his thighs and carried him down the hall.

The droplets that clung to his skin were enticing, Otabek wanted to lick each one away. He started on his neck, slotting himself between his spread thighs. Yuri ran his fingers through his hair, his mouth hanging open and chest heaving. Beautiful, even if he was a blond blur, he was beautiful. He exhaled across Yuri’s chest, watching as goose-bumps rose along his skin. Yuri shivered, his eyes fluttering shut and his let his head fall back against the bed, hair spreading around his head in golden tendrils. The sheets would be too wet to sleep on later. It would be worth it, though. He ran his hands up and down Yuri’s thighs, feeling water droplets run through his fingers.

His kissed down the centre of his chest, inhaling the sweet smell of his skin. He moved down his ribs, dipping his tongue into his navel and watching him shudder. He was so beautiful. Then he went lower, holding him down by sharp hip bones. Yuri usually shaved himself bare for no other reason than his preference, but his body hair was light and soft anyway. So, he kissed unhindered skin all the way down to the base of his cock. He was hard too, swollen and pink against his thigh. Otabek grinned, pressing a whisper of a kiss to the shaft.

“Beka!” Yuri shot upright, nearly dislodging Otabek from his body.

“Hmmm?” he looked up at him through his eyelashes. His eyes were wide and wild and his cheeks were pink.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, going to suck you off?” The blush traveled down his to his neck. “You’ve never had a blow job before?”

Yuri narrowed his eyes, slapping him softly on the cheek. “What do you think, asshole?”

Oh. “First time for everything.”

Yuri began to squirm and Otabek pulled away, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“No, I… you’re the one who needs to rest, let me, uh…” he paused not knowing how to continue.

It was the weed talking, Otabek would convince himself later. “Okay, you can ride me after.”

Yuri blinked like and owl. “What?”

“Ride me. You be on top.”

Yuri swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing with effort. “Um…”

Otabek kissed the crease between his hip and thigh. “I’ll show you how.”

With a long exhale Yuri flopped back onto his back, the mattress shaking with the impact. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.”

Otabek grinned. “That all depends on you.”

Still, Yuri’s stomach twitched when he gently took him in hand and kissed the tip. Omegas tended to run small in this area and Yuri wasn’t really an exception. He could take him into his mouth without a problem, flattening in tongue and pressing the ball of his piercing against the underside. Yuri’s gasp came from his stomach and echoed in the empty room. Otabek had to smile.

“Fuck, Beka!” His moan sounded more like a scream, and Otabek hadn’t even started.

When he began to bob his head, tongue sliding up and down his shaft, Yuri began to squirm and pant, back rising from the mattress. He was chanting ‘holy shit’ over and over in a rushed whisper, but Otabek wasn’t in the mind to let him rest. Holding Yuri’s hips still, he used his free hand to massage his balls. Otabek was sure that his legs spreading wider wasn’t a controlled reaction, but he’d seen how easily he could still drop into a split. He rolled his balls between his fingers for a bit longer, listening to him gasp for air, before pressing his thumb to his perineum. He was wet down there, and Otabek’s felt his own dick twitch as he wet his fingertips with the slick.

“Beka,” Yuri moaned again, hands finding the back of his head and the threaded his fingers in the longer hairs. He half expected him to push, try to get him to take him into his throat, or to yank on his hair, but he just held him. It was probably a sign that he was getting close, and he’d known that Yuri wasn’t going to last long, but he hadn’t expected it to come this quickly.

So, he pressed the pad of his index finger to the muscles around his asshole, then with a moment’s pause pushed in. The muscles gave way easily, as slick as they were, and Yuri’s breath hitched when Otabek pushed in up to his knuckle. He kept up a slow rhythm of bobbing his head, making sure to drag his piercing along Yuri’s shaft with each motion, while he massaged his inner walls, trying to ignore the way his cock was throbbing with need. Yuri was moaning, his voice catching in his throat more often than not as Otabek thrust his finger in and out of the silky, spasming heat.

He was just about to add a second one, but as soon as his middle finger touched Yuri’s rim, he came right then, spilling into Otabek’s mouth and panting like he’d just finished a run. Otabek swallowed easily, sucking until he began wiggling in discomfort. Biologically, omegas didn’t make that much semen, definitely not as much as an alpha. He remembered learning in a biology class that male omegas couldn’t impregnate anyone; their balls were really just vestigial organs. Yuri had come in a single short spurt and then spasmed the rest of the way through. It was cute. But what really happened when he came was a rush of slick that warmed Otabek’s finger, and the muscles in his ass clamping down so tightly on his fingers, he felt his own dick twitch. They were both male, but so different here.

“Holy shit.” Yuri gasped, his voice already sounded hoarse, and Otabek couldn’t wait for the rest of the night. “Is that what it feels like when you’re, uh, inside me?”

Otabek licked his lips and smirked, before crawling his way up Yuri’s body. “No, it’s better.”

Yuri’s eyes widened. “ _Better_?”

“Yeah,” he kissed the corner of his mouth.

He found his glasses before he lay down, his head propped against the headboard. He didn’t want to waste time with contacts, but he was not going to miss any of Yuri’s expressions this time. The way his face scrunched up as he slowly slid down his cock, then smoothed out when he was fully seated. Both their chest were heaving, almost keeping time together. Yuri took a few moments to let himself adjust, and he was to tight and wet that Otabek hand to hold onto the blankets to keep from thrusting up into him. Each breath through his nose was strained.

Eventually, Yuri cracked open his eyes, brilliant sea-green was glazed over in pleasure. A fire was building in his stomach, and he could feel his cock twitching and throbbing inside of Yuri, but his chest had gone all tight in an emotion so soft and consuming that if he wasn’t leaning against the headboard he would have been knocked over. He reached out, cupping the side of Yuri’s face, smoothing his thumb along his swollen bottom lip then up his cheekbone. Yuri held onto his wrist with both hands, leaning against his palm.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his heart quivering as Yuri blinked lazily down at him. “I love you so much.”

Yuri placed a gentle kiss to the centre of his palm, slowly rolling his hips. “I know.” He bit his bottom lip, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows as he moved. “And don’t you ever forget that I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:  
> \- Sexual content  
> \- Recreational drug use (human and cat lol)  
>   
> Tbh Otabek is even more fun to write than Yuri now that I've gotten the hang of it :)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri’s fingers were smooth and cool as he traced an aimless pattern along Otabek’s cheek. Their legs were tangled under the fresh covers and Otabek had an arm hooked around Yuri’s waist, holding him tight against his chest. His eyelids were getting heavier by the second, Yuri’s touches were doing nothing to help. They had changed the sheets, and he’d dragged Yuri back to the shower to clean up. The lights had been turned off a while ago, and neither of them had bothered to redress before getting into bed. As the gentle scent of Yuri’s soap filled his nostrils, he felt calm even though his high had long since faded.

“Do you want to do anything tomorrow?” Yuri asked softly, smoothing his thumb across his cheek.

“Tomorrow?” Otabek let his eyes fall shut, breathing in deeply.

“It’s my off-day.”

Otabek hummed. Right, his off-day; he’d be home all day. They’d be home, together. He should have been happy, but his stomach quivered instead, something itching in his chest, buzzing all the way out to his skin. “Do _you_ want to do anything?”

“Dunno, that’s why I asked you.”

“I guess we’ll just see what happens then.”

“Yeah,” Yuri trailed off, sounding as if he wanted to say more. But he didn’t, tucking himself under Otabek’s chin instead and pressing his cheek against his chest.

Otabek kissed the top of his head, curling around him slightly as he slowly smoothed his palm up and down his bare back. He wasn’t really sure if he even wanted to do anything; the idea of going out seemed exhausting. Yuri could understand that, right; the bone-deep weariness that came after training. Or were his energy levels truly endless?

They must have been with the way he was still able to dance around the apartment after a busy day, bouncing on the balls of his feet, even as he bent over the island, shoveling dinner into his mouth. He was so beautiful and he loved him so much, but he didn’t deserve him one bit. It made his chest hurt.

Yuri was up and moving before Otabek even rolled over. He jolted awake when he heard the front door slam shut followed by a few cabinets and the rush of water from the faucet. He gropped for his glasses on the nightstand, nearly knocking over Yuri’s collection of dirty mugs. Forcing himself to sit up, he sighed, just wanting to go back to sleep, but guilt gnawed at his stomach and forced him to stand. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants, realising that they were Yuri’s when they were halfway up his thighs. He rolled his eyes at himself before stumbling over to his suitcase and pulling out the first pair of underwear he touched.

“You’re awake?” Yuri said, watching him shuffle down the hallway. He was leaning against the island, one hip cocked outward, legs crossed at the ankle, and phone in hand.

“You worked out?” Otabek eyed the black leggings and and the loose, teal tank top hanging from his shoulders. His ass looked amazing under the skin-tight fabric, but Otabek’s mind was submerged in fog.

“Yeah, went to the fitness centre.” He pulled his hair down from the messy ponytail, and used his shirt to scrub at the sweat on his neck.

“What time did you wake up?” His spine was tingling; the day had just started but already he was useless. He leaned against the wall and took his glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose.

Yuri wrinkled his nose. “Um, like seven I think.” He’d been gone for over an hour. “Don’t say anything about it being my off-day.”

“I wasn’t.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow, straightening and stretching his arms over his head. “Right. Anyway, what do you want for breakfast?”

Otabek sighed. “Anything. I’m not that hungry.”

Yuri paused for a few seconds, frowning as he pulled his lips into a thin line. “Beka…”

He ducked into the bathroom and shut the door before he could continue. There was complete silence on the other side of the door as Otabek blinked at his reflection. He clenched his jaw, annoyed with himself. Honestly, he didn’t have any right to treat Yuri like that; not when he had done absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe coming to Saint Petersburg hadn’t been a good idea after all. He didn’t feel any better, if these past few days had proved anything, and now he had to endure a new guilt every time Yuri looked at him. He felt gross, he looked it too; he hadn’t been to the gym in weeks, and he could tell that he was already starting to lose muscle. He needed to shave too, and cut his hair.

But not now.

He stepped into the shower, not even waiting for the water to heat up.

“I made omelettes,” Yuri said as Otabek came out of the bathroom. He poked his head up over the back of the couch, green eyes wide and blinking slowly like a cat. “Yours is in the oven, I… uh, didn’t know you would take that long in the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” He dug his nails into the edge of his towel, as he headed down the hallway to the bedroom.

“Uh, Beka?”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder as Yuri curled his fingers over the wooden trim along the backrest.

“Did you want to come to the gym? Should I have woken you up?”

He shook his head. “It’s okay.”

Yuri bit his lip. “Are you mad at me?”

Otabek recoiled, something painful sinking into his stomach. “No. I…” he sighed. “I’m just… tired.”

Yuri disappeared behind the couch and Otabek heard a soft poof as he landed on a cushion. “Okay.”

Clenching his jaw, he went back to the bedroom, cursing himself in every language he knew. Yeah, he’d book a flight back to Almaty. He didn’t need to make Yuri more upset. Yet, as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the Air Kazakhstan website on his phone, he couldn’t get past the welcome page. Grinding his teeth together, he stood and dragged his feet over to his suitcase for a fresh pair of pants. He pulled out a pair of black joggers, creased from being folded so tightly for so long. Well, that’s what he got for not unpacking like he should have. He looked down at his clothes, clenching and unclenching his jaw; he’d been here for almost a week now. Yuri had told him he’d cleared out a few drawers from him, and made space in his closet. Sighing, he slipped into his pants, but paused when his knee spasmed as he bent it.

“Fuck,” he breathed, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Everything was just going to shit.

Okay, there was nothing he could do about his knee right now, besides actually doing his stretches. He’d do them tonight. And he knew he would feel like a little less of a slob if he put his fucking clothes away. Grinding his teeth, he bent over brushing his knuckles against the floor to pull the other pants’ leg on without having to bend his knee too much. Only twenty-two and his body was already falling apart. He’d set an alarm to remind himself to do his stretches tonight.

Now, unpacking. Groaning as his knee pulled again when he got to the floor, he began piling things onto the bed. Shirts in one pile, pants in another, then organised them by what he would wear at home and go out in. Putting them into Yuri’s dresser felt a bit intrusive, after he’d opened the wrong drawer full to the brim with haphazardly thrown and balled up underwear.

“Yura,” he sighed, wondering what state of mess the other drawers would be in. His shook his head as his cheeks heated, yet he still picked up something small, black, and lacey. This boy. Running his thumb along a delicately stitched seam, he exhaled softly. Yuri was doing so much for him, and he’d done nothing in return. His mother would slap him if she found out how he’d acted that morning. He wanted to slap himself. The least he could do was go eat his omelette.

Yuri had showered when he came back out, and was curled on the couch in a fluffy, purple bathrobe, damp hair pulled up into a messy bun. He’d fallen asleep on his phone, the darkened screen stared at him, as he breathed lightly through parted lips. He was curled around a throw pillow, one leg hitched up baring an alabaster thigh where his bathrobe had ridden up high. He breathed deeply through his nose, just taking a moment to look.

Yuri was _perfect_ ; he should really try harder. Especially now, after he’d messed everything up so badly, after the long months of being so busy that he couldn’t even spend longer than a few minutes on a call with him. He’d come to Saint Petersburg to recover, and it wasn’t really working, so he needed to try harder. Yuri babbled softly in his sleep, curling tighter around his cushion, and causing his robe to hike up even higher. Nearly all of a pale ass cheek was on display, and Otabek was glad that it was just the two of them in the apartment. Even in his sleep Yuri’s reckless nature starred. O Allah, he loved him. A smile stretched Otabek’s lips and he stooped down, gently running a finger along Yuri’s cheek. Yuri startled awake, blinking before his mind woke up fully.

“Hey,” Otabek said softly, smoothing a loose lock of hair from his face.

Yuri sighed, letting his eyes fall shut briefly before he sat up and pulled his robe tight around himself. “Hey.”

“You said breakfast was in the oven?” he asked, hooking a finger under Yuri’s chin, rubbing his thumb along the soft curve.

Yuri leaned into his touch. “Uh, yeah. It’s probably cold by now, though.”

“That’s okay,” he placed a short, kiss to his lips before getting up and heading over to the kitchen.

Potya magically appeared when he took the omelette out of the oven and poked at it with a fork. She purred hopefully, winding herself around his ankles. Making sure that Yuri wasn’t looking, he sliced a piece for her and pushed it off his plate.

“I saw that,” Yuri mumbled anyway, get up and stretching his arms over his head.

“Sorry, but she’s so cute.”

“I know. She’s also on her way to becoming overweight.” Otabek tilted his head. “Lilia. She gives her a treat every time she looks at her.”

Otabek chuckled, this time from deep within his chest.

Yuri’s off day passed in a haze of Netflix, tea and a few of the cookies Otabek had gotten the day before. Yuri had clung to him, neither of them paying much attention to the television, kissing and nipping ever bit of his face within reach. Otabek let him do whatever he wanted, smiling as he listened to his non-stop chatter, before his high wore off and he raided the pantry for something full of starch and carbs. Only when he was halfway through his third bran muffin, two slices of buttered toast, and at least half a dozen spoonfuls of almond butter straight from the jar, he looked at Otabek and swore he’d kill him if he ever told Lilia that he broke his diet. Otabek had kissed him senseless right there in the kitchen. They only stopped when Otabek’s phone alarmed to remind him to do his stretches.

The rest of the evening passed just as quickly and before he realised, Yuri was grumbling, throwing his ballet clothes into his gym bag and tearing his room apart to find his pointe shoes. Otabek watched him go, almost too scared to say anything and get hit in the face with a sneaker or something. He found them in his closet, where Otabek had suggested he look from the start. Yuri was still playfully fuming as he crawled into bed, over Otabek, and made sure to knee him in the stomach.

Otabek was jostled awake the next morning when Yuri flipped on the overhead light. He was blinded even through his closed eyelids. Grumbling, he rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Oh shit, sorry; it was a reflex!”

The light had gone back off, but Otabek didn’t come out from under the pillow. Once again Yuri was heading out, training, and being productive, while he’d spend another day doing nothing. His knee was still sore from the exercises last night. Grinding his teeth, he held his breath until he couldn’t anymore, took a breath then did it again.

Yuri touched his back, smoothing his palm along his shoulder blade, and the mattress dipped when he sat down. “Hey, I’m leaving now.”

He grumbled to acknowledge him, hands balling the sheets. The irritated shrug that shook Yuri’s hand away was instinct. He hadn’t even noticed his did it, his skin bristling in annoyance, until Yuri gave a short, forceful huff and he heard the bedroom door slam.

“Viktor invited us to lunch,” Yuri announced as soon as the front door flew open and he dumped his gym bag in the foyer. He bent down to scratch Potya’s chin as she came up to greet him. “Let’s go.”

Otabek looked up from his book. He’d managed to make a dent in it, finally able to concentrate for longer than a few minutes. Was it lunch-time already? He raised an eyebrow, looking from Yuri down to his pyjama pants. “Uh, I couldn’t have gotten a warning?”

Yuri tapped his foot impatiently, taking his hair down from the tight bun and shaking it out. “No. Get moving.”

“I have to shower-”

“You’ve been doing nothing for the entire morning, you’re still in your pyjamas for fuck’s sake. _How_ do you need to shower?”

Otabek ground his teeth together, the back of his neck started to itch, and his chest got heavy. “Are you serious?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

Otabek grumbled, standing from the couch and stretching out his legs. “I smell.”

“Just put on some cologne.”

Otabek stared at him and Yuri stuck out his tongue.

The restaurant was a pretty casual one, located right across the street from one of the cities many canals. The wind was horrible, running along the water almost deafening and slammed the door shut behind them with a bang. Otabek sighed in relief, trying to rub warmth back into his arms as he looked around. There was an oceanic mural behind the bar, rustic, wooden tables, and the staff went around in jeans and polo shirts. Viktor waved them over, jumping up from his seat when he saw them causing Yuri to bristle and pull his hood to cover as much of his face as he could.

“Glad you could make it, Otabek,” Yuuri said, standing as they came up to the table, he was also dressed in athletic wear, his track jacket halfway unzipped. “It’s good to see you.”

He nodded, pulling out Yuri’s chair for him and ignoring his indignant glare. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“We know Yurochka’s been keeping you locked away in Lilia’s apartment; some fresh air is nice once in a while, hmm?” Viktor smiled, sitting back down.

Otabek blinked, glancing at Yuri as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

“So, how long are you staying in Saint Petersburg?” Yuuri asked.

“I’m not too sure, yet.” His stomach tightened as he looked down at his lap.

“Well, if you get too bored at Lilia’s, you’re always welcome to spend a few days with us. You haven’t been to our house yet, have you?”

“I’d rather die.” Yuri cut in, his chair scraping against the floor as he moved.

“We weren’t asking you, Yurochka.” Viktor quipped. “You’re welcome any time, Otabek. We have lots of spare room.”

“Uh, thank you, sir.” He reached for his water glass just for something to do.

“Did you guys order yet?” Yuri asked, flipping open his menu. Otabek picked his up as well, suddenly not very hungry at all.

It didn’t take long for their food to arrive; the restaurant wasn’t that full despite it being lunch hour. Otabek watched as Yuri dabbed the sauce off of his grilled salmon with a paper napkin.

“I said no fucking sauce,” he grumbled. “I _asked_ if it was a creamy sauce, fuckers.”

Otabek scoffed softly, nudging Yuri’s knee with his. He nudged him back, roughly.

“A little bit of fat won't kill you,” Viktor said. “I know Lilia’s been at you with a cane, but you could use a little bit of cushion on those bones.”

“Nobody asked your opinion, old fart.”

Viktor huffed turning to his husband, pouting.

“Yuri,” Yuuri warned, sighing softly. “Don’t be rude.”

“Then tell him to shove his opinion up his ass, ‘cause I didn’t ask for it.”

Viktor gasped. “Where did he learn this language? I know we didn’t raise him like this.”

“He must have gotten it from one of those shows,” Yuuri hummed, eyes twinkling mischievously. “We might have to cut back on his television time.”

Yuri growled. “Will the two of you _stop that._ ”

Otabek bit his lip, looking down at his lap as he smirked. At least with them bantering like this, no one would notice that he didn’t have anything to say.

“Otabek, can I speak with you for a minute?” Viktor asked as he stood up from the table, sliding his wallet back into his pocket. Viktor had insisted on paying for everyone, and Otabek had squirmed as he signed the bill. He couldn’t make this a habit, he’d have to repay him somehow. Watching someone else buy anything for him just didn’t sit right. His father would have said he should have tried harder to persuade Viktor.

Yuri’s eyes widened and he looked like he was going to pounce, so Otabek stepped forward, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Of course.”

Yuri deflated, biting his lip as he looked between them. Yuuri came to the rescue, linking his arm around Yuri’s elbow and dragging him off.

“Hey, I want to show you something.” He pulled out his phone, tilting the screen towards him and Otabek wasn’t sure if he actually had something to show him or if he could think incredibly fast on his feet. Still, Yuri gave him one last worried glance as he let Yuuri drag him away.

OKay, should he have been more worried? He eyed Viktor’s smile, shoving his hands into his pockets and wishing he hadn’t eaten so much. His stomach was like a rock, expanding and crushing his lungs.

“Yurochka is just being dramatic,” Viktor smiled, guiding him towards the exit. “This is nothing too serious.”

“Uh...”

“How’s your knee holding up?”

Otabek blinked, nearly stumbling in surprise. “My knee?”

“You withdrew from the Grand Prix Final because of an injury, right?”

He inhaled deeply, adjusting his glasses to sit higher on his nose. “Yes, my coaches recommended that I rest for a while. It’s doing better now, but I still have to be careful with training.”

“Jumper’s knee?” Viktor held the door open for him, and Otabek hunched his shoulders as the cold hit him right in the face.

“Yes, sir.”

Viktor hissed. “Yes, be careful with that. You could end up needing surgery.”

He nodded; he knew that all too well. They walked in silence for a few minutes and Otabek curled over as much as he could when the wind blew right through his coat. He hated winter in Russia. And of course Viktor would have stopped right in front of a bench that overlooked the canal. Otabek wanted to ignore him and keep on going, but he placed an hand on his forearm stopping him in his tracks. Otabek tried to steal himself as best as he could. How could people live here?

“So, Yurochka tells us that you haven’t been yourself lately.” Viktor began, leaning against the railing and looking down into the dark water below.

Otabek swallowed and his gut clenched, cold seeping from the inside out now. “He did?”

“He’s worried about you,” Viktor turned to face him, and Otabek stumbled back into the bench when he saw his expression. He wasn’t smiling, and Otabek felt himself start to sweat. “It’s understandable, of course; what happened to you was abhorrent. I’m glad that you sued. But,” he paused, and Otabek slowly sat down, the metal freezing his skin through his jeans. “I also want you to know my Yurochka is trying his hardest to help you.”

“I… I know that, sir.”

Viktor huffed, sitting down next to him. “He cares about you a great deal, and I don’t want to see him get hurt.” He flicked a piece of snow from his coat. “Again.”

It was getting harder to breathe. “If I ever hurt him, I assure you it wasn’t intentional-”

“If?” Viktor raised an eyebrow and his smile was back, but it looked so very dangerous and colder than the air around him. Was Otabek going to die that afternoon? “I just want you to be aware,” Viktor continued after a moment. “You mean a lot to him. And when someone cares that much, it can turn into a lot of pain.”

Okay, that was a warning. He shivered as he thought back to how Yuri had looked when he asked him if he was mad at him the other day. “I never want to hurt him.” The ‘you have no idea how much I love him,’ stuck in his throat. The ‘you don’t know how much I hate myself for hurting him,’ had his chest seizing.

He hummed. “Then let’s see it. I want you to treat my boy like the little prince he is.”

“I’ll try my best, sir.” He really wanted to, O Allah, he wanted to, but when he woke up each morning feel like he was drowning, he didn’t know where to start.

Viktor hummed again. “He’s trying to talk to you, and that in itself is rare. I suggest you listen to him.”

Otabek stared at his lap, breath coming out in thick, white puffs. His face was numb but he wasn’t thinking about that anymore. Thoughts were chasing themselves around his mind, and he couldn’t decipher a single one of them. They sat in silence for a while longer before Viktor stood up.

“I know you’re good for each other,” Viktor started, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet. “You’ll get through this, just try not to bite each other’s head off, okay?”

Otabek swallowed, he hoped so.“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and about the nudes.” Otabek flinched, looking away. His stomach curled like a dead bug and his cheeks caught fire despite being numbing cold. “Don’t take it too hard.”

It took him a second for his brain to decipher the words. He looked up, frowning. “Uh-”

“Don’t take it too hard,” Viktor repeated, placing an hand on his shoulder. “You still have your career in front of you, you still have friends and family, and trust me, no one is going to hate you for it.”

Otabek swallowed. “But, I-”

“It’s embarrassing, yes. It makes me sick that some people will go so far. But don’t let it get to you.”

“How?” he blurted before he could catch himself.

Viktor tilted his head, something flashing in his eyes. The hand on his shoulder tightened. “Well, that’s just how life works. Bad things happen, but we get over them in time. It works out.”

“It worked out for you?”

Viktor tilted his head, looking thoughtful for a while before shrugging. Otabek could have kicked himself. Yuri had told him not to tell Viktor he knew. “It did. We should head back now.”

They walked in silence before Viktor gave a little sigh. “I was around nineteen at the time and I took some pictures, they were saved on the cloud, and before I knew it they were all over the internet.”

“You were hacked?”

He nodded. “I thought Yakov was going to strangle me. But it was all over in a few _weeks_ , believe it or not. I thought I’d get at least a couple months of media coverage. I’m not an _actor_ or anything, but still.” He pretended to pout, or it was genuine, Otabek wasn’t sure. “Then everyone was onto the next scandal, and no one even talked about me anymore. And it wasn’t like having my nudes leaked stopped me from skating, from winning.”

Otabek swallowed, watching his feet as they walked. Yeah, but how did he get over the fact that the entire world could take a look at his dick if they wanted? He’d heard from Yuri that Viktor didn’t have one modest bone in his body; the hot springs in Japan had been a nightmare. He wasn’t like him; private things should be kept private. This was the type of embarrassment that would never go away.

“But, until that happens,” Viktor continued, seemingly as an afterthought. “Just own it.”

Otabek raised an eyebrow, lifting his eyes from his feet. “Own it?”

Viktor’s smile was back, the trademarked one that Otabek now understood wasn’t all the way real. He tilted his head sideways, eyes closing as he grinned. “Mmmhmm. You’re attractive, I doubt a single person out there is disgusted by your pictures.”

His stomach rolled. “I… that’s not-” He really didn’t need to think about people jacking off to his pictures. His ears were steaming too; thanks for that, Viktor.

Viktor patted his shoulder. “Do you need a ride back to Lilia’s?”

Otabek walked on a few steps before he realised that Viktor had stopped. He the door of a SUV, parked at a meter. Of course he’d drive a cherry red Alfa Romero Stelvio. Yuuri was bundled in the passenger seat with the engine running. Otabek wouldn’t have picked the car for himself, but going by looks alone he knew why Viktor had chosen it.

“Where’s Yuri?” he asked, peering into the back seat through the open door.

“He took the train back to the rink,” Yuuri answered, glancing up from his phone. “He said he wanted to get some practice done before Yakov came in to scream at him. His words, not mine.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know why disappointment spiked in his stomach.

“So, Lilia’s?” Viktor asked.

He shook his head. “I think I’ll take the train back.”

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah, I need to… think about a few things.” Viktor hummed, as Otabek ducked away from the car. “Thanks for the offer, and thanks for lunch.”

And he really did have a lot to think about. He felt like shit, but he didn’t want Yuri to feel like shit too. He let out a deep sigh before he pulled his scarf over the bottom half of his face.

Otabek’s supply of cookies and brownies started to dwindle a few days later; he didn’t realise just how quickly he was going through them, until he picked up the air-tight container he’d been keeping them in and saw straight through the clear lid to the bottom. He’d need to go buy more soon, or - an annoyed voice from the back of his mind but in - or he could stop avoiding his feelings and talk them out like a human being. Yuri, Iska, Roza, and his mother had given him a hundred openings each, and he’d blown right past all of them. He sighed, shoving the container into the back of the fridge, and turned around to fill the kettle, avoiding Potya as she wound around his ankles, purring in hope of a treat or two.

“You already had your dinner, Princess,” he told her, stooping down to pet her after he put the kettle on. His knee twinged as he bent it - a reminder that he’d been neglecting his physio stretches, again.

Yeah, sabotage your entire career, why don’t you, Otabek, he snapped at himself. He rolled his palm over his knee, letting Potya rub herself along his calves.

“She really likes you,” Yuri mumbled, peering around the island, a spoon hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

“Really?”

“It took her like two months to warm up to Lilia.”

“Maybe she thought Lilia was scary.” He ran his fingers along her spine. “She probably just likes me cause I give her catnip.”

Yuri scoffed, going back to his dinner. “Probably.” 

Groaning softly as he stood back up, he turned around to face Yuri.

The past few days had been weird. He never thought that he’d see the day when Yuri Plisetsky would be cautious. But that’s the only way he could describe Yuri’s skittishness, the long silences before he spoke, even the hesitation to touch him. And it was all his fault. He wouldn’t want to be around himself either. He leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest and watching as Yuri scrolled through something on his phone, twirling his spoon around a carton of yogurt.

They really needed to talk, or he wouldn’t be able to stay in Saint Petersburg for much longer. His stomach bubbled and just the thought made his chest ache.

But how was Yuri supposed to help? He wasn’t a therapist, and his social awkwardness was baffling to watch sometimes. He was clumsy with his words, and when things got too emotional he couldn’t even string together a sentence. So, how was he supposed to just unload on him? _That_ wouldn’t be fair.

So, instead of letting the mess in his mind seep out he asked. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Hmm?” Yuri couldn’t hide the confusion that blanketed his face. “Uh, sure.”

Otabek let out a harsh breath through his nose as the kettle began to bubble and boil.

They settled down on the couch after making himself a cup of tea. And surprisingly Yuri wasted no time climbing onto his lap and tucking himself under his chin. Otabek held him, the knot in his gut loosening a bit as Yuri turned on the television. He slowly wrapped his arm around him, resting his palm against his hip.

They were silent, but it didn’t feel awkward, not as Yuri slowly relaxed against his chest, scrolling through the movie titles on Netflix. Otabek had thought that he would bombard him with questions as soon as he sat down, and it wasn’t often that he was silent. Silence meant something was wrong, and he obviously didn’t know what to say. Otabek didn’t know what to say either and he pulled out his phone, going through the messages that had gone unread since that morning.

His mother had sent her usual good morning text and Bal has sent him something as well. He answered his mother before opening Bal’s message, hoping that nothing else had gone wrong at home.

Bal:  
Thought you might get a laugh out of this

He had sent a Twitter link and Otabek tapped on it, expecting a video clip or some dumb meme. It wasn’t. It was a picture posted by one of his fan accounts; he recognised the handle, even though he’d deactivated his Twitter account over a month ago. Otabek’s breath left him and his stomach retwisted itself into a knot so tight he felt like he’d been stabbed and a high-pitched ringing started in his ears and his vision started shaking.

It was a hastily taken photograph saved from Snapchat, but Otabek recognised the short black, bob cut and pouty lips. He was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and dusty work gloves, bending over a bin of old housing hardware, and even though he wasn’t looking at the camera Otabek could tell that he was having a hard time.

It was weird, he thought, and kind of sad actually, that even though Assyl had lost the case it was _him_ who was crashing and burning. He felt like he was going to vomit, also explode with rage.

“Hey, are you okay?” Yuri asked softly. Otabek nodded, swallowing. “What are you looking at?”

He tilted his phone towards him, feeling the air around him throb.

“Oh. Well, he fucking deserves it.” Yuri grumbled, pushing the phone back. His voice sounded like it was miles away. Otabek locked the phone, watching his hands like they weren’t even attached to him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

He shook his head, swallowing before he tried to speak. Nothing came out.

“Beka?”

His eyes were prickling and everything was shaking now. He gently pushed Yuri off his lap, stood up and raced to the bathroom.

“Beka!”

He was drowning, unable to catch his breath as he leaned over the sink. Clutching the edge of the counter with shaking hands, he tried to calm his thudding heart.

He couldn’t.

Fuck, he couldn’t even fix this. He took a shuddering breath, fixing his eyes on the sink drain. Everyone kept on telling him that Assyl had gotten off easy, after trying to ruin him like that. And yeah, he’d won the case, Assyl didn’t stand a chance against his lawyers. The whole of Almaty - of Kazakhstan - knew not to mess with an Altin. But still, if he could just go back and do things differently.

“Beka?” Yuri asked hesitantly from the doorway.

Otabek looked up, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Yuri had his arms wrapped around his stomach, his gaze was wide and unsure as he worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

Otabek swallowed, shaking his head and looking away. “I…” he began, but didn’t know how to finish.

Yuri slipped into the bathroom, his footsteps soundless, and wedged himself between Otabek and the counter. Cupping Otabek’s face in his palms, he ran his thumbs along his cheekbones, eyes filling with concern.

“We need to talk,” he said firmly.

And they really did. He nodded.

Yuri lead him to the bedroom, hands firm around his wrists. He guided him onto the bed, sitting behind him and wrapping both his arms and legs around him. Otabek leaned back against him, bring his hands up to clutch at his wrists. He was like a koala, a skinny, long-limbed koala, he thought, almost laughing.

“I know you’re not okay,” Yuri began softly, his voice soft even though he was right next to his ear.

“I’m supposed to be,” he answered.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you’re _supposed_ to be. You’re not.”

Otabek swallowed, letting his hands fall to his lap and curling his fingers into his palms. How did he even begin to explain this?

He swallowed. “This isn’t your problem, Yura-”

Yuri’s entire body went rigid before he pulled back, practically shoving Otabek away. “Not my problem?” he hissed. “I fucking care about you, Altin. You’re my b-boyfriend, tell me how the fuck it’s not my problem when you’re miserable and hurt?”

He was close enough that Otabek could still feel the heat from his body and the back of his neck prickled, so he knew he was being glared at. “You don’t deserve my mess-”

“Oh my God! Stop telling me what I do and don’t deserve! You can’t make that choice for me!”

He clenched his jaw, lookin at him from over his shoulder. Yuri was kneeling, back straight for once, fists clenched, and frowning so deeply his entire forehead was wrinkled. Otabek sighed, taking his glasses off and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. “I’m not, it’s just not fair for me to dump everything on you-”

“Well I want to help! I don’t like seeing you like this, Beka. I don’t like it when you’re sad. I _want_ to help you get better, but I need you to tell me what’s going on! You can’t just sit and act like everything is alright and when I ask… I’m not going to act like it’s alright when it isn’t, Beka!” His voice went high at the end and he dropped onto his heels, punching the mattress.

The silence that followed was almost as loud as Yuri’s yelling. Otabek’s stomach contracted itself into the size of a golf ball. He was the worst human being in the world.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, Yuri’s voice echoing around his head.

“ _Sorry_?”

“Let’s talk.” He held his breath, as the ringing in his ears came back. The bed was swaying, but he could not back down now.

Yuri slowly slid to the edge of the bed, sitting down next to him, close enough that Otabek’s thigh prickled from his heat. He stared at them, his own sweatpants-covered leg next to Yuri’s much thinner, bare one. The hem of his t-shirt was longer than the shorts he wore. Otabek swallowed, the rush of anger and hatred had evaporated, leaving him chewed out and scrambling to piece together how he felt.

“I should be happy shouldn’t I?” he asked at length. “That’s what everyone thinks. I should be happy that he’s doing community service and he’s miserable and...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“But?”

He swallowed, likcing his lips.

“Why?” Yuri continued. “He deserved every single thing that he got and more.” He grabbed his hand, squeezing gently. “Fuck, I still want to run him out of the country. Please don’t tell me you feel bad just because of one picture of him doing work.”

“I-”

“Beka, he’s a shit person!”

Just fucking say it. He pried open his locked jaw. “It’s all my fault!” His breath left him like a bullet and he was dizzy and tired.

“What?”

“Everything that happened, it’s all my fault.”

“You didn’t tell him to post those pictures, how the fuck-”

“I’m the shitty person.”

Yuri grumbled, letting go of him and slipping onto the mat to kneel between his knees. “And just how did you come to that conclusion? How are _you_ the shitty person when he was a fucking gold digger right from the start, when _he_ stole my sunblock and nearly gave me like third degree burns, when he was so fucking rude to every one of our friends, and when he attacked me and nearly gouged out my eye. How are _you_ the shitty person here?”

Otabek wanted to rip his own skin off. “I shouldn’t have dated him.”

“Well no shit, Sherlock.”

He shook his head as his throat tightening and his lip started to tremble. “I shouldn’t have dated him to get over you.” Yuri was stunned to silence and Otabek couldn’t look at him. “I shouldn’t have dated anyone to get over you. I… we never stood a chance and I made him think that we did.”

Yuri’s nails dug into the muscles of his thighs. “You are un-fucking-believable. That’s what you’re worried about?”

He swallowed, glaring at his lap and how Yuri’s pale hand was balling his sweatpants. Well that was part of the problem. He sighed, uncurling Yuri’s hands from his pants before he ripped them. “I’m not _worried_ , I just… I get where he’s coming from and…” Yuri snarled, but he continued. “I had a lot of time to think, going over everything with the lawyers.” He paused to clear his throat. “And imagine going into a relationship and realising that the person loves someone else and that they’re lying to you-”

“Yeah, so fucking what?” Yuri spat. “You hurt his _feelings_. Do you know how much you made me cry and I didn’t do anything to ruin your entire life.”

Otabek blinked, eyes snapping to Yuri’s face. “I… what? I made you cry?” It wasn’t possible for his stomach to sink any lower.

Yuri’s eyes widened and he winced, biting his lip. “Yeah. A lot. I… when you started dating him… it hurt. Bad.”

“Yura-”

“But I didn’t turn fucking psychotic! He doesn’t deserve your sympathy!”

Otabek sighed, he knew that. He knew how much shit he’d gotten from his sponsors. He lost the _Children’s Programming Network_ , and once the contract’s end date passed, they would stop airing the commercial with him in it. Assyl was the reason why he’d gone off all social media, why he was paranoid, anxious, and possibly depressed. Yet, at the root of it, it was his fault.

“I know,” he mumbled.

All the fight slipped out of Yuri just like that. He sat back on his heels looking up at Otabek.

“So why did you date him?”

The question had him at a loss for words. Because he needed to get over Yuri then, because thinking about not being with him hurt. Because his family - his mother - was pressuring him to date, and that the best advice Iska, Bal, or even Kerim and Hadiya could give was to move on and find someone else. Hadiya had always tried her best to help him out, and she trusted Damira, who had literally no motive to set him up on purpose. He had no reason to not date Assyl.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Yuri snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He reached up, cupping Otabek’s jaw again. “I don’t know what to tell you. But that bitch isn’t worth your time, and maybe it all sucked, but it wasn’t, like, because of you. Shitty things can happen to shitty people and that doesn’t make them any less shitty. I mean, look at my mom, when my dad died, she literally dumped me on my grandpa’s doorstep and took off.”

Yuri had a way with words; he was as eloquent as a child learning how to speak. But Otabek understood the sentiment. He was right; Assyl was a terrible person, but it still didn’t make it easier to get through.

“Fuck, what would Katsudon say?” Yuri grumbled, curling over to bump his forehead against Otabek’s thigh.

Otabek swallowed. Yeah, he should have kept it to himself, Yuri was heels over head with this.

“You’re not a shitty person, Beka. And I know you’re feeling a lot right now, but you shouldn’t feel guilty when someone tried to ruin your life out of spite. And maybe if you did hurt Assyl, he did something much worse to you. Just… just forget about him, okay?”

He appreciated it, but Yuri so obviously didn’t know what to say. But he was trying, and surprisingly, it made the knots in his stomach loosen. He _knew_ Yuri would have tried, but _seeing_ it made him feel so incredibly stupid for not talking to him sooner. He didn’t have the answer to all his problems, of course, no one would. He wasn’t even sure if there was even an answer.

He cupped the back of Yuri’s head, threading his fingers in the gold silk. He was trying.

Yuri raised his head after the silence started to eat at him. “Beka, it’s not your fault, okay?”

He was trying.

Otabek nodded, slipping to the mat as well wrapping his arms around Yuri’s waist and pulling him tight against his chest. Yuri flung his arms around his neck, immediately sealing their lips together. He felt lighter, somehow, like everything he’d let out had carried a bit of weight with it. As Yuri’s lips moved against him, and his dull nails massaged his scalp, a mild calm seeped into his chest.

“I know you don’t like talking much,” Yuri mumbled, pecking his lips softly before pulling away fully. “And I don’t know what to say to make you feel better. But I want to help you, Beka. I love you. And you’ve helped me through so much, and it’s my turn to help you. Okay?” He kissed him again, deeply, almost like he was trying to prove something. Otabek felt the fire behind it. “I want to help you,” he breathed, eyes shut and mouth still so close Otabek felt his lips move. “So let me.”

“Okay,” he whispered, drawing him back into a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just as confused as Otabek about this chapter.  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for chapter warnings

Yuri swore loudly, slamming the fridge shut with his hip.

Otabek looked up from the newspaper from his position at the kitchen island. “What is it?”

“I need to go grocery shopping,” he grumbled, looking so incredibly put off that Otabek had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“That’s not something terrible, Yura.”

Yuri glared. “Says the rich, fucking prince who has maids to do the shopping for him.”

Otabek narrowed his eyes playfully. “I didn’t have a maid in America. Or Canada for that matter.” Yuri didn’t need to know that he’d gotten his groceries delivered once a week and the boarding schools he’d gone to in both countries had provided all meals and snacks. “And doesn’t Lilia do all the shopping and cooking?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I _help_.”

Otabek chuckled again, standing from his stool and rounding the island to wrap his arms around Yuri’s waist. “What do you need to get?”

Yuri huffed, leaning back against him. “Everything.”

He chuckled again, pressing his lips to the side of Yuri’s neck. “Make a list, I’ll go change.”

Yuri tensed ever so slightly in his hold. “Uh, you’re coming?

“Yeah? Do you not want me to?” He licked his lips, nervousness spiking in his chest.

“No!” Yuri waved his arms, turning around to face Otabek. “It’s just that… well. Uh, you haven’t really left the apartment since you got here.”

Otabek’s stomach gurgled. “Not true, I went to get lunch with Yuuri and Viktor. And I left to get my edibles.”

Yuri groaned, stooping slightly to bump their foreheads together. “Fine, go get ready.”

The grocery store wasn’t too far away from the apartment, but Otabek could see why Yuri was complaining. The walk back would be torture with their hands full of heavy groceries. Something told him that Lilia bought things as was needed to avoid having to do one big trip, but knowing Yuri, he’d let everything run out before realising. Judging by the length of the list on his phone, Otabek knew that’s exactly what had happened. Otabek leaned against the shopping cart handle pushing it along as Yuri went from shelf to shelf, examining brands and prices. He could ignore the prickling at the back of his neck whenever they passed a person, and he could force the anxiety away if he thought someone was staring at him when Yuri complained loudly about prices.

“What the hell is in this rice? Gold? Does it cure cancer? My fucking God, there’s no way I’m paying that much for something I’m gonna shit out in a day.” He angrily shoved one of the bags back onto the shelf.

A small smile stretched Otabek's lips and he buried his face into his scarf.This whole situation was just so domestic, apart for Yuri’s cursing. They’d been living together for nearly two weeks now, but grocery shopping was something different. He took a picture of Yuri deliberating between two new packs of rice, grinning as he sent it to his mom.

Me:  
Yuri takes longer to decide on things than you.

He could already imagine her smiling, and shoving his dad’s shoulder to show him the picture. He’d rarely gone shopping with her, but the few times he did he’d vowed never to do it again. For groceries, clothes, or anything else. Never. She answered just as he was about to slip his phone back into his pocket.

Anam:  
Are you grocery shopping?

Me:  
Yeah

Anam:  
Tell Yuri that’s a nice colour on him.

He glanced up at Yuri’s dark red jacket. He looked good in any colour.

Anam:  
I’m happy you finally went outside. See it’s not so bad.

He rolled his eyes.

Me:  
Only because we needed food

Anam:  
Oi _zhyndy_

Otabek scoffed, she hadn’t made fun of him like that in a while. He sent back a smiley face.

Anam:  
Call me when you get home.

“What are you laughing at?” Yuri asked, dropping a bag of rice into the cart. He raised an eyebrow as Otabek looked up from his phone.

“Nothing. I was just talking to my mom. She wants to call us tonight.”

Yuri blinked. “Uh, okay. I mean, we don’t have anything else to do. Unless you wanted to…”

He shrugged. “A night in is fine.”

“Okay.” He turned around, picking up a few packages of dried chickpeas.

It was hard to tell if he was disappointed or not. Otabek’s stomach and chest tightened again and he kept his eyes fixed on the cart basket as it quickly filled.

With the shopping done, it was one of the moments where Otabek wished that he wasn’t so in love with Yuri; their cart was packed with bags and the walk back to Lilia’s apartment was starting to seem impossible. He pushed the cart to the edge of the sidewalk, wondering why in heaven Yuri hadn’t gotten his driver’s license yet, or why Lilia didn’t have a car. Yuri grinned guiltily, looking from all the bags to Otabek’s clearly unamused expression.

“I didn’t think you actually meant we were out of _everything_ ,” he grumbled, fingers already burning out of cold.

“Well, not everything everything. Unless you wanted to eat canned tuna, broccoli, and oatmeal for the next few days. And we still had a few rolls of toilet paper-”

“Remind me why I love you again?”

Yuri blushed hard, even though his cheeks were already red.

Otabek was panting by the time Yuri unlocked the door to the apartment; his shoulders felt like they were going to pop, and his fingers were burning so badly he was positive that he had frostbite.

“Never again, Yuri Plisetsky,” he groaned, letting the bags fall from his hands to the foyer floor.

“Yeah, like that was so much fun for me too,” Yuri grumbled, doing the same. “Fuck, I think I dislocated my little finger.” He shook out his hands and Otabek winced at how red they were. “I can’t even feel my face.”

Otabek scoffed, stepping over a few bags and grabbing Yuri’s hands squeezing them gently to warm them up, they did feel like ice.

“Your hands are cold too!” Yuri whined, but let Otabek rub his fingers. They were long and slender, with pointed, sharp joints and uneven nails from when he chewed on them.

“Hey, next time tell me if we’re out of something or if you’re too busy to go to the store.”

Yuri bit his lip, looking off to the side. “Yeah. I just, uh. I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

Otabek sighed softly, his stomach twisting. “Well, I want to _now_ , okay?”

“Yeah - shit!” He tore his hands away from Otabek, looking wildly around the apartment as if he’d just remembered something. “Potya!”

The front door was still open, and he dashed back out, limbs and hair flying wildly. Potya was all the way at the other end of the hallway, and paused when she heard Yuri coming up behind her.

“Get back here!” he called after her, but she just blinked and continued on. “Potya!”

By the time they had managed to capture Potya, corning her against the door that lead to the stairwell, Otabek was sweating under his coat. He eyed the cat slumped in Yuri’s arms and purring softly as they walked back to the apartment.

They didn’t end up doing anything much for the rest of that day, and Otabek hadn’t felt such physical exhaustion in a while, it was almost nostalgic. After they had showered and changed, they bundled themselves up in one of Yuri’s fluffy, leopard-print blankets and silently watched Netflix until the sun began to set, sending bright, orange light through the long, arched windows and Lilia’s gauzy curtains. It was only when it was dark enough that they had to turn on a light, Yuri got up and began bumbling around the kitchen. He had finally changed from his bathrobe to a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, and Otabek watched him flit around making dinner and ignored him when he asked if he needed help with anything.

“Don’t tell Lilia, I let you eat on the couch,” he mumbled, handing Otabek a plate of baked chicken, sautéed potatoes and green beans, and a separate bowl of salad with walnuts, cranberries, and chunks of avocado.

Otabek grinned mumbling his _du’a_ before cutting off a large chunk of chicken. Yuri tucked his feet under himself, smiling around his fork.

“Don’t let my mom know you can cook this good.” Yuri raised an eyebrow as his cheeks turned pink. “She won’t let you leave Almaty the next time you visit.” To be honest, she’d probably start talking about weddings.

As he took another bite of his chicken, Potya jumped up onto the couch, staring at him like she was about to pounce. Otabek bit his lip when she let out a soft mewl, and placed her front paws on his knee.

“Beka, don’t you dare.” Yuri kicked his thigh.

“I wasn’t,” he grumbled. “She doesn’t deserve anything after that escape attempt today.”

Yuri chuckled, pushing Potya away with his foot. She batted at his toes. “Hey, didn’t you say something about calling your mom earlier?”

“Uh, yeah.” He twirled a piece of spinach around his fork.

“I’ll get my laptop.” He was already setting his plate down on the coffee table.

“Let’s finish eating first.”

“O...Kay.” He sat back down, and Otabek tried to ignore the unblinking stare he was sending his way. 

They silently watched the television until they had finished eating, and Otabek forced himself up from the couch and took Yuri’s plate and bowl to the sink to wash before he could say anything.

“You know there’s a dishwasher, right?”

“Hush.”

His soft giggle made a small smile stretch across Otabek’s mouth.

Otabek’s parents were sitting down on the settee in their bedroom when they answered his FaceTime call. Yuri curled up against his side as his mother started chatting right away. Otabek was mostly silent as she told them about her week, then asked Yuri how his Grandpa was doing and how training was going. Otabek let his eyes fall shut as he listened to them talk. His mother’s voice was almost soothing as she rambled and his dad’s soft hums were familiar and comforting. But Yuri’s voice had stiff muscles unwinding and he slowly slid down against the back of the couch until his nose was pressed into his hair. He could honestly fall asleep like this.

“Lilia isn’t in Saint Petersburg?” Otabek’s dad asked hesitantly, and Otabek shot upright the calmness chased from his chest by cold panic. His dad was frowning at the camera their gazes locking for a second before Otabek looked away.

Yuri shook his head. “She’s in France for two months. One of her friends asked her to help with a production, uh, ballet show in Canes.”

“So it’s just the two of you in the apartment?”

Otabek bit his lip; he knew where this was going. “It’s alright, dad.”

Yuri blinked, turning to look at Oabek. “Uh yeah,” he said, tugging at a lock of hair above his ear. “We’re in a pretty good part of town; it’s safe and you need a code to get into the building and a separate key for the apartment so, we’ll be fine.”

Otabek shut his eyes briefly, pulling his lips together tightly to keep himself from laughing. His Dad was at a loss for words for a second, before he scoffed through his nose. “Oh, okay, I… I guess I shouldn't worry then.”

He had explained to his parents a while ago that Yuri was asexual, before they or any one else from the family made some inappropriate joke around him. It still seemed to slip their mind, especially now that he and Yuri were dating. And he already had one sex scandal hanging over his head; he couldn’t blame them for being wary. Still, Yuri was an actual angel. Otabek wrapped his arm around Yuri’s waist, pulling him firmly against his side. Yuri looked up at him in confusion.

“Well, I hope Beka hasn’t caused you too much trouble,” his mom began. “Of all my children none of them have been this stubborn.”

Yuri giggled softly as Otabek rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, he hasn’t been any trouble at all.” He patted his shoulder for emphasis. “I wish he’d be more trouble; all he does it sit around and read all day.”

His mother eyes flashed in concern. “It’s okay, Ma, I was just tired.”

His dad set a hand over his mother’s forearm. “Let him be, _Suiktim_. We both know how busy he was these past months.”

He could tell she was bristling slightly, but then drew in a long wary breath. “You’ve been sleeping better?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Good, I can tell. Eating better too?”

“Yes, Ma, Yura makes sure of it.”

Yuri squirmed against his side, a light blush blooming on his cheeks.

His father slowly shook his head. “You can send him back to us, Yura, when you get tired of him. And he’s a grown man, don’t worry about cooking for him.”

“ _Äke_ ,” Otabek mumbled, glancing down at Yuri to make sure he knew his father was only teasing.

“Um, yeah,” he breathed, biting his bottom lip.

“Your dad called me Yura,” he said as soon as they had ended the call.

“Hmm?” Otabek stretched his arms over his head.

“He called me Yura. You’re the only person that calls me that.”

Otabek tilted his head to the side, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s waist and pulled him onto his lap. “Does it bother you?”

Yuri was silent, thinking. “No,” he said after a minute. “It’s just that everyone usually calls me Yurochka.”

“He probably got it from me. I can ask him to-”

“No, it’s fine.”

Otabek squeezed his waist as he leaned back enough to rest his head against his shoulder.

The lightness from the weekend didn’t last long. Otabek woke up when Yuri slid out of bed and promptly tripped over something he’d left lying around the night before.

“You okay?” he mumbled, as something gnawed at his stomach and his chest was all tight and cold.

“Yeah, sorry. Go back to sleep.”

He fell asleep within seconds, despite the tiny voice in his head that had come out of nowhere saying that he was worthless. The voice didn’t go away when he woke up later to the eerily quiet apartment and bright sunlight pouring through the open curtains in the living room. He should be doing something useful, not just hanging around and being a slob. Yuri was probably annoyed with him too, thought he was lazy and disgusting. And suddenly it was hard to breathe. He sat down on the edge of the couch with his head in his hands and a tightly clenched jaw. He was just wasting everyone’s time here, literally asking Yuri take time out of his already packed schedule to take care of him like he was a fucking baby. The thoughts spiralled like a cyclone and he ground his teeth together until his jaw started to hurt and his chest was constricting so tightly he had to gasp to breathe.

Fuck.

If it wasn’t for Potya winding herself around his calves and purring he would have stayed like that for hours. Just like Yuri, his cat demanded attention uncaring of anything else that was going on. She jumped onto his lap and headbutted his stomach, purring louder when he stroked her spine. He chuckled wetly, sniffling and wiping his face with the back of his hand.

The next few days went in a similar fashion. He would wake up feeling as if the word was literally falling down on him and would lie in bed falling in and out of sleep until Potya woke him up for a snack. Then he’d force himself to do his exercises, and go to the gym downstairs before showering and making a small breakfast. He could ignore the cold, sinking, swirling feeling in his stomach when he worked his muscles to the point of exhaustion. And napping with Potya purring on his chest turned out to be oddly comforting. He’d had to come up with a plan to bring her back to Almaty when the time came.

Yuri was supposed to have an off-day on Wednesday, but Otabek caught him packing his gym bag on Tuesday night. He looked up with wide eyes like a child caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Uh, there’s a guest instructor from New York at the Vaganova tomorrow, and Lilia wants me to meet him. It’s like a three-day training camp.”

“But it starts on your off-day.”

“Yeah. I don’t mind.”

Otabek got down on the floor next to him and handed him one of the rolled up towels he had yet to pack. “You do need to rest some time too, you know that.”

“I know, but when next am I going to get the chance to do a ballet workshop with a world famous danseur? I already talked to Yakov about it and he said I only had to come in on Thursday for an hour.”

“You are insane.”

Yuri grinned. “Pass me my shoes.”

Otabek shook his head picking up one of the tan ballet slippers. He sighed, wrapping the ribbons neatly around the sole. “Don’t these hurt your feet?” He picked up the other side, trying to rub off a grey smudge on the corner of the platform with his thumb. He hadn’t expected there to be a wooden block inside when he had first picked up one of Yuri’s shoes. He had found it amusing at how small they looked when he wasn’t wearing them, but, like skates, they were supposed to fit snugly. His stomach gurgled, he should have been doing more, himself. Yeah, an hour in the gym and that was it, while Yuri was running around doing training _and_ ballet. He was pathetic.

Yuri rolled his eyes, grabbing the shoe from him. “No more than skates.”

Otabek shook his head, still unable to wrap his mind around how ballet dancers could go up on their _toes_ and not break anything. Yuri zipped up his gym bag then crawled over to sit in the space between Otabek’s crossed legs.

“Sorry for ditching you tomorrow, though,” he mumbled, turning around so he could wrap his legs around his waist.

“It’s okay,” Otabek said, forcing a smile and pressing his lips to the tip of Yuri’s nose. “Potya will keep me company.” He’d just end up doing what he did every other fucking day anyway.

Otabek jolted awake when his phone rang, dislodging Potya from his chest with an angry grumble. He groped around blindly getting even more tangled in the sheets before he found his phone wedged halfway under the pillow. He answered without trying to make out the blurry screen.

“ _Iya_?”

“Beka? Did I wake you up?”

Yuri. He dragged a hand down his face, and blinked hard.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, um, I forgot my ballet things at home, could you, uh-”

“Yeah of course, I’ll bring them for you. You had everything packed already, right?”

“Yeah, it’s the purple Nike bag in my room.”

Yeah, he’d nearly tripped over one of the straps when he had gotten up to go to the bathroom. “Okay, so meet you at the rink?”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath after he hung up, and stretched his arms over his head. He should probably get going now; it only took fifteen minutes to get to the rink, but he definitely needed to shower before he left the apartment.

The smell of the ice hit Otabek full in the face when he pushed open the doors. He hadn’t been inside a rink in a while and the sound of blades gliding across the ice almost felt like home. Almost. His knee twinged, and he hoisted Yuri’s bag higher up on his shoulder, tearing his gaze from the ice to anywhere else. He saw Yakov and Viktor leaning against the boards on the opposite side of the ice and took a deep breath before heading over to them.

“Otabek!” Viktor spied him instantly, waving like an excited child. “What brings you here? Did you come to skate? I thought your knee was still giving you trouble.”

He nodded to Yakov. “Just came to drop off Yuri’s ballet things.” He pointed at the purple bag.

“That boy,” Yakov grumbled, looking back onto the ice. “Mila,” he yelled suddenly. “Try that at any competition and you’ll be disqualified. Do it _again properly_!” Mila’s groan was loud as was Yuri’s cackling. “And don’t you laugh, Yurochka! You have twenty more minutes and I haven’t seen your triple toe-loop yet!”

Yakov’s methods were so different than both Tair and Gennadiy, who never shouted and offered encouraging smiles and pointers at the end of each practice. But then, looking at the chaos that Yakov’s students often caused, yelling was probably the only effective method. Yakov stepped onto the ice grumbling. “Mila! What did I just tell you?”

Otabek watched him fume to the centre of the rink, grabbing both Mila and Yuri by their arm. He hid a small smile in his scarf, but there was nothing to be done with the angry bubbling in his stomach or the knife in his gut. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him, was always watching him, ready to laugh or whisper harshly behind their hand. He clenched his jaw, trying to get his breathing back to normal. The rink was mostly empty, and he’d gotten most, if not all, of the pictures taken down anyway. It shouldn’t be still circulating. It couldn’t be, right?

“Hi, Otabek.”

He nearly jumped when Yuuri came up behind him. “Hi.”

Viktor pulled Yuuri against his side. “Feeling better, my love?” he asked softly. Otabek blinked, shouldn’t he have been on the ice with Yuri and Mila? Well, he did look a little pale and his eyes were slightly pink.

“Yeah,” he said simply, leaning into Viktor’s hold.

Viktor nodded, placing a soft kiss to his temple. “You ready to go home?” Yuuri nodded. “I just have to drop this off at the office then we can get going.” He held up a thick paper folder, and bounded off.

“Is everything alright?” Otabek asked hesitantly as Viktor’s footsteps faded away.

Yuuri offered him a small smile and flapped his hand before leaning against the boards. “Mmmhmm. Just a little anxiety, we’re supposed to be leaving from Four Continents next week. Guess I’m feeling a little stressed.”

Otabek hummed. He’d withdrew from that competition as well; it didn’t make sense to try, he was so out of practice and his knee still needed a lot of work. Something gnawed at his stomach. “Everyone knows you’ll do well,” he offered.

Yuuri sighed through his nose. “Yeah, that’s how it always is.” He blinked, was that the wrong thing to say? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I… well I’ve been thinking about retiring after next season, and I just want everything to go well. I mean, I’m probably just pressuring myself more than necessary, but I don’t want to embarrass Viktor or anyone else - sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s fine. I get it.”

There was a beat of silence before Yuuri turned to him. “What about you? How have you been doing?”

“Hmm?”

“You just look a little tense.”

“I do?” he sighed heavily. Of course he did, his spine was itching fiercely and his stomach was like a science experiment gone wrong. He glanced at Yuuri whose huge, brown eyes were filled with a sort of intense, watery concern. “I guess… well, some days are better than others.” He joined him leaning against the boards, and glared at the ice below.

Yuuri hummed. “Yuri told me about your shopping trip last weekend.”

He scoffed, slowly shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have been surprised, honestly; he leaves everything to the last minute. It was a good workout I guess.”

Katsudon chuckled. “See there, you didn’t look so sad just now.”

“Huh?”

“When you talked about Yuri. I think you are getting better, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

He shrugged. “I mean I don’t feel as… bad when I’m doing stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Like with Yuri, or working out, or playing with Potya. Like if I don’t give myself time to think.”

Yuuri clasped him on the shoulder, squeezing gently. “Yeah, your mind can be unforgiving. But at least the world outside is so big and full of so many people and things that you don’t have to stay closed up by yourself. I know advice is the last thing you want to hear right now, but get out and do something.”

Yuuri wasn’t the first person to tell him that. He sighed, maybe he should actually try it.

His first trip was to get more edibles. Then he spent the rest of the day in an old record store he would have passed by any other day. The owner was an excitable old man in ripped jeans and had given Otabek an in depth history of the band _Mashina Vremeni_. He had ended up buying three records before he realised that he didn’t have anyway of listening to them at Lilia’s. Still as he examined the cardboard sleeves on the train ride home, he forgot to look for people staring and laughing at him.

The next day he found out that Potya could play fetch. Well she didn’t exactly bring her toy back, but she sauntered back in his general direction so it was easy to grab and throw again. His phone storage was nearly full of videos of her poucing after her toys. Yuri loved them even more and had posted a couple of them to his Instagram. He tried to entice Potya to play fetch with him, but she remained uninterested, only blinking at Yuri when he threw one of her toys across the living room. Yuri’s pout was adorable, and Otabek kissed him until he was smiling.

He picked up a weird routine of exploring different parts of the neighbourhood. After Yuri left he’d go to the gym, shower, eat breakfast, then pick a random train and get off at whichever stop came first. And at first his skin had crawled whenever someone so much as glanced his way. He had no idea what they were thinking, or if they had recognised him from the pictures, but then the moment was gone within seconds and the person looked away and he could breathe a breath of relief.

Someone did approach him on the train, but it was a little boy who was dragging his mother behind him and excitedly asked for an autograph. While his mother explained that he had started skating, and was going to his first novice competition next season. Otabek had grinned despite himself, and signed a piece of paper the boy’s mother had provided. And when they got off at their stop Otabek shook his head and laughed at himself. It was funny; he had thought everyone hated him now. He had thought the mother would have been disgusted with him. Maybe they didn’t know about the scandal. And then it hit him, really hit him. Maybe they _didn’t know_.

Something in his chest loosened, and he sat down, staring out of the window in a daze. They didn’t know or they didn’t care. Huh. He scoffed, still trying to process what had just happened.

“Hey,” Yuri called, running up to the sidewalk, and jumping over a clump of brown snow. He took a minute to catch his breath before giving Otabek a peck on the mouth. “How did you even find this place?” he mumbled as Otabek held the door open for him. A bell jiggled above them, and the aroma from the kitchen hit them full in the face.

Otabek shrugged, reaching out to tuck a wild lock of hair behind Yuri’s ear. It wasn’t in his customary pony tail, and a bit tangled from running. “I went exploring yesterday. I had the _grecheskiy salat_ and it tasted like my Grandma’s, so yeah.”

Yuri grinned. “I can’t believe there’s a Kazakh restaurant so close to the rink and I didn’t even know.” He breathed in deeply. “It smells like your kitchen.” Otabek nudged him with his shoulder, before winding his arm around his waist. Yuri leaned against him as they chose one of the five tables, scattered around the tiny room. “I’m coming here every day for lunch.”

“Lilia won’t approve.”

He rolled his eyes when Otabek pulled out his chair for him, but hung his coat over the back before sitting down. “Lilia doesn’t approve of a lot of things, but if this tastes like your mom’s cooking, I’m going to have to change my meal plan.”

Otabek chuckled, sitting down himself and grabbing Yuri’s had to entwine their fingers. “I still don’t know where you put it all.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, the only thing big on you is your ass-”

Yuri’s gasp was almost dangerous, and he pulled his hand away. “My ass is not _big_!”

“Okay, I’ll give you two a few more minutes to settle in.” The waiter had appeared out of nowhere and left just as quickly.

Yuri’s face turned beet red. “I hate you.”

Things were going too smoothly, Otabek realised when he woke up from what must have been the worst nightmare he had in years. He shot upright with a gasp, fligning the sheets off of him as his mind slowly made sense of what was happening. His skin was itching and he felt sweat beading on his back and neck. His heart was racing and stomach rolling and his breath came out in short pants.

“Beka?” Yuri asked sleepily from beside him.

“Shhh,” he swallowed, smoothing Yuri’s hair from his forehead with a shaking hand. “It’s okay, go back to sleep.”

“What happened?”

“It was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” he mumbled, rolling onto his lap, and hugging his waist. “It’s okay, Beka, just a dumb dream.”

Otabek felt his heart slowly going back to normal as he stroked Yuri’s hair. It was just a dumb dream, but he couldn’t help but panic.

He was back at home in Almaty and everything had seemed normal at first, until he’d gone into his closet to find all his clothes missing, then the ones he had on had disappeared as well. His mother had walked in on him, and had scrambled to hide, sweating and heart racing while his stomach drained to his toes. Laughing at him his mother then said that he didn’t need clothes anyway since everyone already knew what he looked like naked and to hurry up because he was late for practice. Everything had devolved from there, he was suddenly in a competition in only his skates, spotlights shining on him and the crowd jeering and laughing at him, giant hands and menacing grins. Cameras flashed like volcanoes. Even the commentators were laughing, as they described his dick. There were news articles featuring his dick, and he ran just trying to hide, heart racing, but everyone kept on finding him and laughing, taking pictures and calling him names. He had woken up when the first call from one of his sponsors came in and Gennadiy’s voice had echoed in his head that his career was over.

Otabek rubbed his chest, feeling the residual panic swim in his lungs. It was just a dumb dream. He lay back down, staring up at the ceiling as his throat constricted. Yuri mumbled something already half asleep and shuffled so that he was using Otabek’s chest as a pillow, winding his arms around his ribs, and burying his nose into his armpit. He swallowed shakily, resting his arm over Yuri’s waist. He wasn’t sure if he could fall back asleep, or if he even wanted to.

The dream came back the next night, and he didn’t wake up until noon. He skipped the gym that day and only ended up showering half an hour before Yuri came home. He hated this, he was finally making some progress and starting to feel like himself then everything had come crashing down again. Fuming, he grabbed two of his brownies, impatiently waiting for his mind to cloud over and, when Yuri came home, fucked him into the mattress.

Days passed, and he couldn’t shake the cold bubbling in his stomach. He ran through another batch of edibles and on Yuri’s off-day didn’t let him up from the bed if it wasn’t absolutely necessary and he was completely spent. It probably would have gone on like this for a while, until Yuri dragged him out of bed at the crack of dawn one morning and told him to go shower.

“We’re having a watch party at Yakov’s. You’re coming, I’m not giving you a choice.”

“Watch party?”

“Four Continents. We’re watching Katsudon.”

Otabek blinked and could have kicked himself. How had he let that much time pass? He swore. “It’s been a week.”

“Hmmm?”

“Nothing.”

Yuri narrowed his eyes for a split second before shoving him to the bathroom.

Otabek hadn’t been up this early in ages, and he yawned over the mug of black tea Yakov had offered him. He was sandwiched on the couch between Yuri and Georgi, waiting for one of Georgi’s students to hook up their computer to the television. He stared down into his mug, at the spiraling steam and the still cream-coloured liquid, while excited voices bounced all around him. Leo and JJ were competing too, and he should have been more excited, but he couldn’t stop the itching at the back of his neck. It definitely hadn’t been his imagination when one of Georgi’s students had stared at him a bit too long, eyes darting down to the front of his pants before she quickly looked away. He had found his spot on the couch quickly after that, as Yuri bumbled around, bringing him tea, a plate of tiny, assorted pastries, and cuddled up next to him, under a crocheted blanket.

He let Yuri tuck himself under his chin once the stream had finally started, but as the commentary began he felt short of breath. He should have been there competing, if he hadn’t fucked it all up. Clenching his fist around the edge of the blanket and staring at the screen, he tried to keep his breathing calm and even. Not even Yuri seemed to notice yet how tense he was. He could already hear Tair and Gennadiy berating him about sportsmanship, how even though he hadn’t been able to compete he was supposed to support his rinkmates and fellow athletes. But still, he should have been there. His skin was itching, moving like ants and he didn’t even see the first two skaters even though he’d been staring right at the screen.

“Ugh, change the channel,” Yuri grumbled as soon as the camera switched to reporter holding out a microphone to JJ. “No one wants to listen to interviews.”

Mila hushed him. “Honestly what’s your problem with JJ?”

“Nothing, I just don’t want to hear him speak so early in the morning.”

Georgi chuckled from beside him. “I think you’re just upset that he’s in first place.”

“Katsudon will take it back during the free skate. Watch it.”

“Hush!”

Yuri grumbled but didn’t say anything else and Otabek pressed his lips to the top of his head, turning his focus back to the television.

“It was a good competition, challenging but fun,” JJ was saying, grinning at the camera. “We got so many new skaters this year, and it’s great to see old friends.” Otabek’s stomach clenched. “Anything I would have changed? Well, there’s one skater in particular I think more than a few of us missed. I know his routines this year would have given me a run for my money.” He shrugged, then grinned directly at the camera. “But there’s next year, so Otabek, man, you better take care of that knee.”

Otabek’s eyebrows shot upwards, and he blinked at the television.

Yuri scoffed loudly, “Asshole.” But Otabek could tell he was joking.

“Yeah, your routines this season were amazing,” Mila hummed, tapping at her phone.

“Were,” he sighed.

“Yes,” Yakov agreed from his recliner in the corner. “All that back and forth love-drama between you and Yurochka. The judges ate it up.”

Otabek’s cheeks heated and Yuri flipped Yakov off as Georgi’s students snickered amongst themselves from the floor.

“Hey, look.” Mila hopped up from the love seat and stretched over Yuri to show him her phone. “I knew I saw it during Rustan’s performance.”

Otabek adjusted his glasses as he took her phone. He’d helped Rustan With his routine and to see him land the double Salchow, triple toe-loop combination had his chest tightening in pride for a few seconds. But Mila’s phone screen showed a blown up picture of the crowd where someone was holding up a Kazakhstan flag and right next to it a poster with his name.

“Huh?” He zoomed in, frowning.

“Your fans are pretty cool, you know that right?”

Yuri scoffed again. “Are you kidding me? They’re worse than mine! We can’t go anywhere in Almaty without him being stopped for an autograph. It’s like he’s a fucking movie star.”

Mila laughed loudly. “Well, your fans still don’t go to competitions and hold up getter better soon signs.”

“They-”

“There’s more, swipe.”

There was. The getter better soon sign just like she had said; actually, he glanced to the username, this was one of his larger fan accounts. Huh, Mila followed them?

“I’m surprised I still have fans,” he grumbled handing her back her phone.

Mila blinked owlishly, glancing to Yuri then to Georgi. “Um… well yeah. I think you actually got more. You deactivated your Insta so… but the fan accounts have been on fire. It’s mainly been reposts for a while, but you’ve been getting all sorts of fan art and gifs. See.” She held out her phone again.

Yuri elbowed him, grinning like a demon, but he didn’t feel it. His heart was beating loud in his ears, and he felt it in his fingertips. So, they didn’t all hate him. He took the phone scrolling through all the posts he had missed. There were a lot of gifs from his old routines, a few reposts of him and Yuri from Yuri’s account, and, surprisingly enough, a few posts begging him to come back. His breath left him in a slow wheeze. They didn’t all hate him. They wanted him back, on social media and the ice. When he handed Mila back her phone his stomach was tightening again, but there wasn’t any of that cold, painful dread. He felt warm.

Yuri was yawning widely on their walk back to Lilia’s apartment. Yakov had given him the day off, instructing him to go back to bed, but Otabek knew that wasn’t happening. They linked their arms together as they walked, boots crunching snow and breaths coming out in white puffs.

“It’s like that on Twitter too, you know,” Yuri grumbled after a few minutes of silence.

“Huh?”

“Everyone wants you back.”

“Oh-”

“They do! I mean none of that was your fault, and they know that Assyl-asshole was 100 percent wrong. I mean, like some of them went after him, it was hilarious actually, and he deactivated his Twitter too.” He stomped on a clump of ice, before kicking away one of the larger pieces that broke off. “I mean my fans are rabid, but yours are like a pack of lions. But… I know it’s been hard for you, but no one hates you for it. On the bright side you got more famous, I guess a few people just joined cause you’re hot, but like any publicity is good publicity, right. Or… uh. Even during the court shit, like everyone was on your side and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such positivity from a fan base like that before. It was like… I don’t know like you're some kind of superhero. And-”

“Yura,”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“Huh?”

“Thanks.” He took a deep breath, stopping short and grabbing Yuri’s hand so he didn’t go on ahead. “I know i’ve been a pile of shit since I got here-”

“No-”

“But thanks for trying. And making me come watch the competition. I… I think I needed that.”

Yuri bit his lip, and he looked off to the side, embarrassed. “What the asshole did to you was pure shit, but he got the worst of it in the end.” Otabek scoffed softly, pulling Yuri against his chest. “I mean, all of your fans still love you, I love you. And once your knee is better, you can get right back-”

He couldn’t wait for him to finish his sentence; he kissed him. Yuri fell into him, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and kissing him back like he’d been waiting for it for a year. Despite the biting cold, Otabek still felt warm. He was sure that he was floating, he couldn’t feel the pavement. For once he didn’t pull away when Yuri bumped his glasses crooked and he didn’t care that they were blocking the pavement. A warm, fuzzy feeling was slowly growing in his chest, and he wasn’t dreading the rest of the day.

“Hey,” he whispered against the corner of Yuri’s mouth when they broke apart. “I wanna take you out.”

“Huh?”

“On a date.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been here how long now, and I haven’t once taken you to dinner. I’m surprised you haven’t broken up with me.”

Yuri blinked slowly before he started to scowl. “Trust me, there are plenty other reasons for me to break up with you. Dinner is not one of them.”

He chuckled loudly, pecking him on the lips. “On your next off-day. We’re going out.”

“Why not now?”

“Because, you mister, need to go to bed.”

Yuri punched him.

Otabek froze in the doorway of Yuri’s room, watching as he struggled with the zipper on the back of his dress. Otabek held his breath, gazing up and down his boyfriend’s body. He had his hair up, for once, in a fancy braided bun at the nape of his neck, and had taken the time to do his makeup. His eyes were lined in black and brown and his lips were blood red. His dress was a dark red with a sort of lace overlay, but there was no back and it clung to his hips and ass like a second skin, just long enough to cover both cheeks.

“Help,” Yuri whined, looking at him from over his shoulder, “The zipper is stuck.”

Otabek swallowed, stepping closer and pinching the two ends of the fabric at Yuri’s lower back together. A few threads were caught in the zipper, but as soon as he picked them out it zipped up smoothly. He let his hands linger at the bare skin on his back, before running them around to the front of his hips.

“Yura, you look amazing,” he breathed.

“You say that every time,” he rolled his eyes, turning around to face Otabek and ran his palms up and down his biceps.

“Well it’s true every time.”

“I’m not sure about the dress. Is it too much? Should I wear pants and a tie or something?”

“No. I like this.” He trailed his fingers up Yuri’s side, up his chest to the collar of the dress then to his jawline.

“ _You’re_ wearing a suit.”

“And?” He huffed. It wasn’t a suit, just slacks and a jacket that he hadn’t even gotten from the same store. Otabek grinned, smoothing this side of his finger along the underside of his jaw. “You’re beautiful, Yuri Plisetsky, don’t you dare change.”

It took Yuri only a few more minutes to finish getting ready. He slipped on a pair of black heels and stopped to look at himself in the mirror and touch up his lipstick. But before they left, Yuri pushed him into a corner, holding his phone high up in the air for a selfie. Otabek scoffed, but wrapped his arm around Yuri’s waist and looked up at the camera. He didn’t expect Yuri to bend slightly and press his lips to his cheek as he snapped the picture.

“It’s not bad,” he muttered tilting the screen so Otabek could see. Yuri was gorgeous in any picture he took. He looked like an actual supermodel. “I’m posting it. Uh, should I tag you?”

Otabek hesitated. He still hadn’t signed back into Instagram. But, he took a deep breath and reached for his phone in his pocket. “Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m signing back in right now.”

Yuri smiled and by the time Otabek’s newsfeed had refreshed and his 200 plus notifications loaded, Yuri’s picture was right on the top. He double tapped it, then reached up to peck Yuri on the cheek. Viktor was right, he wasn’t going to let Assyl win this one. He was going out on a date with his boyfriend, incredibly hot boyfriend, and he would be proud to let everyone know that he was going to have a good time.

He had called a taxi to take them to the restaurant. A luxury taxi this time, Yuri was going to get pampered tonight. He had chosen a restaurant that was known for catering to celebrities, and normally a reservation needed to be made at least two weeks in advance but he’d gotten a few strings pulled. Yuri hung onto his arm, trying and failing not to look too starstruck as Otabek lead him up a marble staircase and through a set of glass doors. In the back of his mind he heard a few cameras go off, but he had long since told himself that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to that. Focus on what’s happening now, not what could happen, he reminded himself.

“Are you serious?” Yuri mumbled, as Otabek gave his name to the host. “Beka, do you have any idea how much this place costs?”

“Yeah, that’s why I brought you here.”

Yuri was stunned to silence for a moment before he grinned, shaking his head.

Otabek hid a grin behind his palm as Yuri happily chatted about anything that crossed his mind. His eyes eyes lit up when he talked and Otabek could have kicked himself for not bringing him out sooner. Every time Yuri got excited enough to turn into an absolute chatterbox, Otabek's cheeks hurt from smiling. He took pictures of his food and asked the waiter if he could take a couple of them sitting together. He posted them all in one album that Otabek liked instantly and had Iska and Bal texting him. But he ignored them, physically unable to take his eyes off of Yuri for longer than a few minutes. He almost didn’t see when the waiter placed the bill by his elbow.

Yuri tucked himself under his chin on the ride home, one hand idly playing with his the buttons on his shirt, as he scrolled through his phone.

“How long do you think it’ll take until we make the gossip blogs?” he asked, as one of his fingers slid beneath Otabek’s shirt.

“Not too long with you looking like this.”

Yuri swatted his chest. Otabek chuckled, leaning down to capture his lips.

It was pretty late when they got home, so he didn’t expect Yuri to crowd him against the door as soon as it shut behind them and kiss him fiercely enough that their teeth knocked together. Yuri pulled back, biting his lip as his eyes sparkled mischievously, and before Otabek could register anything a thigh was between his legs, pressing firmly against his crotch.

“Yura,” he groaned, chasing his mouth.

Yuri smiled allowing him a short peck. “Thanks for tonight. I know you’re still not feeling all that great, but it was really fun.”

Otabek wound his arms around Yuri’s waist, placing his palms flat against his bare back. “Yeah, we should do that more often. More… dates.”

Yuri blushed. “Yeah.”

He swooped back in for a kiss, bringing a hand up to cup the back of Yuri’s head. His thigh pressed firmer against his crotch and he pulled back with a hiss.

“You don’t have to,” he grumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I took you out to dinner because I wanted to, not because I wanted you to repay me with sex.”

Yuri paused. “You don’t want to?”

Otabek stroked his cheek. “Of course I want to, but don’t feel pressured-”

“Okay, I appreciate you always making sure, but I mean, like sometimes I _want_ _to_. You don’t always have to be so careful.”

“You sure?”

Yuri huffed. “Yes.”

In a breath, Otabek had Yuri pinned against the wall, kissing and biting the side of his neck. Yuri had his arms wrapped around his neck, threading his fingers through his hair; Otabek could feel his chest rising and falling in short pants, his scent already getting stronger, musky, aroused. He grazed his teeth along the hollow behind Yuri’s ear, he could practically taste his scent there.

“Do you have any idea how much willpower it took not to rip that dress off of you all night?” Otabek growled, sliding his palm up Yuri’s thigh and under the hem of his dress.

Yuri giggled breathlessly, reaching behind him to undo the single button at the nape of his neck and the short zipper on his lower back. He peeled the sleeves down his arms, never breaking eye-contact then let the dress, fall down his legs. Otabek’s chest spasmed as he forgot how to breathe. Yuri stood in a small, black thong that was lace and mostly see through. He was blushing down to his chest and curled an arm around his stomach. Otabek’s mouth went dry and he blinked, tearing his eyes away from Yuri’s body took look at his face.

“I…” Yuri began softly, reaching up to tug at his hair, but finding no stray pieces. “I thought that this was where we’d end up tonight, so I-”

Otabek kissed him deeply, unbuttoning his shirt and ripping his jacket off.

“Uh, bedroom?” Yuri gasped.

Otabek had to pinch himself to pull away. “Yeah.”

Yuri led him to the bedroom, kicking off his shoes, and Otabek could help but swat at his ass a few times. Yuri looked back with a playfully narrowed eyes. He shed his shirt on the way, and undid his belt and zipper, a fire already alighting in his stomach. Yuri picked out a few pins from his hair and it cascaded down his back like a golden waterfall. Otabek was already having trouble breathing, but when Yuri crawled backwards to the centre of his bed and motioned him to follow with a single finger, he gave up on breathing all together. He slipped out of his pants and underwear before leaping onto the bed and pushing Yuri onto his back. Nibbling at his lip he found the thin lace of his thong and pulled it down his thighs and wasted no time in pressing a finger to his slick coated entrance. Yuri gasped, spreading his legs wide and pulled Otabek into needy kiss all teeth, tongue, and moans.

The room was filled with their harsh breathing within seconds. Yuri threw his head back, forgetting about the kiss as Otabek pushed a single finger into him. His fingertips were tiny points of pressure against Otabek’s back, and he was chewing his lip, making it redder than the lipstick he had worn that night.

“Use your nails,” Otabek mumbled, when he started to knead his back.

“Huh?”

“I like it when you scratch.”

“O-okay.”

Yuri’s nails were short and blunt, but when he crooked the finger inside of him, massaging _the_ spot deep within him, he moaned, clutching him as tight as he could. The stinging pressure from his nails was enough to make his dick twitch, and a wave of heat crashed downwards. He sunk his teeth into Yuri’s neck, feeling his throat work out silent moans of pleasure. Otabek’s chest tightened, everything down to his dick tightened at the sight of Yuri writing underneath him. Squirming in pleasure, lips swollen and red, makeup smudged, and hair a mess. He looked up at him a tender smile gracing his lips as he bought a hand up to caress Otabek’s cheek.

“I l-love you,” he panted, in between soft moans.

Otabek’s lungs cracked, and he was suddenly so breathless and hot. He bent his neck losing himself instantly in the kiss.

“Ready, Yuriyim?” he breathed against Yuri’s mouth a few moments after adding a second finger, positive that he was going to die if he didn’t get inside of him.

Yuri mumbled, spreading his legs wider and tilting his hips upwards. Otabek licked his lips, feeling slick leak out from between his fingers. He withdrew his hand, trailing a line of slick along his perineum and the centre of his balls, then up his shaft. Yuri cursed, back arching.

“Yura-”

“Fuck, Otabek, just get inside me already!”

Otabek chuckled, kissing the side of his jaw as he took himself in hand and gave a few pumps. Yuri’s breathing was rushed and shallow and he smelled so delicious, his scent overpowering and heavy with want. Otabek bit down on the side of his neck, licking and sucking as he lined himself up and pushed in.The tight heat was almost a relief surrounding him, and he and Yuri let out twin sighs then chuckled when they realised. Yuri kissed all over his face until he found his mouth.

They kissed lazily, then hungrily. Yuri dragged his nails down Otabek’s spine, while Otabek held his hip with one hand and massaged the side of his throat with the other. Little moans escaped from Yuri’s mouth each time Otabek slid in. He ate them all up, feeling them settle in his stomach, fueling the pool of fire. Yuri was so tight and hot, both inside and out, he was burning up in pleasure. Trying to keep his rhythm slow and somewhat even, he kissed down the side of Yuri’s neck again breathing him in and letting his eyes shut just so he could block out everything that wasn’t him. He didn’t need anything but his smell, his high, breathy moans, his long, slender body, and the tight, silky heat of his ass. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

“Beka,” Yuri panted, settling his hands at the small of his back. “I want…” he swallowed, groaning again as Otabek thrust in. He slowed down, just so Yuri could think.

“What do you want?”

He swallowed again. “I want you to k-knot me.”

Okay, that cleared his head a bit. He propped himself up on his elbows, staring down at Yuri and searching his face for anything. Yuri bit his lip, gulping down lungfuls of air.

“What?”

His eyes were glassy, pupils blown. “Knot me.”

Otabek licked his lips. He was going to knot, he could already feel the tightness at the base of his dick, but

“Please,” Yuri whined. “I’m on birth control and suppressants.”

Otabek’s dick actually twitched, and fuck he wanted to knot him so badly. To feel his tightness and his body convulse as he came, to be connected in that way. His chest started to heave, breaths giving way to shallow pants, and just from the the thought, the anticipation, he felt his dick start to swell. But, there was an annoying nagging voice at the back of his mind, and something like a cold butterknife dragging down his spine.

He bent to kiss him, tenderly and slowly. Yuri melted further beneath him, swirling the tip of his tongue around his piercing. He knew Yuri knew he loved when he did that, but he pulled away, and rested their foreheads together.

“We need to talk about this more, _Mahabbatym_ ,” he whispered against the shell of Yuri’s ear.

Yuri blinked blearily, tiny lines forming between his eyebrows. “But-”

“There’s no need to rush this.” He slowly pulled out, until only the head of his cock was left inside. Yuri seemed to deflate. He pushed back in, slowly, but went as deep as he could. “I love you, and I want to make sure that we both know what we’re doing this time, okay?”

Yuri hummed, wrapping his legs loosely around Otabek’s hips. “Okay.” His eyes fluttered shut as Otabek picked up a slow but confident pace. “I guess. But, I’m... I’m telling you now, I’m ready.”

Otabek kissed him again and didn’t stop until he felt his knot forming in earnest. He knew Yuiri could feel it too, from the way he widened his legs even more and how ragged his gasps were. Otabek ground his teeth together as he pulled out, hips stuttering and seeking warmth. He wanted to just give in an knot him right there, but instead he took himself in hand and pressed against Yuri’s stomach, hurriedly searching for his dick. He thrust three fingers back into him spreading them wide and massaging his walls as he pumped both their dicks together.

Yuri sounded like he was crying when he came, his entire body tensing and convulsing. Otabek followed not long afterwards painting both their stomachs and chest with his release.

The thing about knotting was that it felt as though his very lifeforce was escaping from his dick. Everything narrowed down to the pinpoint of pleasure, he couldn’t see, or hear, trapped inside his own mind until it was over. His breath was shaky when he finally came down and he couldn't even move a finger and colourful spots swam in his vision. Talking was another challenge.

“Yura?” he rasped. “You okay?”

Yuri was shaking just as much, but his eyes were bright and clear, if not a little tired. “Yeah,” he panted, smoothing his fingers over Otabek’s jaw. “Yeah, I love you.”

Otabek grinned, trying and failing to catch his breath, while the rest of his body was already falling into sleep.

“I, uh, I’ll clean us up.” Yuri disappeared for a short while, and Otabek jolted when he felt a warm cloth wiping away the mess on his stomach. He cracked open an eye to see Yuri carefully wiping him down.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, when Yuri came back to bed, snuggling against his chest and kissing down the centre of it. At least his heart rate had slowed down somewhat. “Sorry I turn into such a useless blob after.”

Yuri scoffed. “You’re always a useless blob. But I don’t mind. It’s a biology thing, right?”

“Yeah.”

They fell asleep holding each other, and when they woke the next morning, Otabek didn’t feel like shit. He looked up at Yuri, grinning as he yawned and stretched. Then pulled him back down for a slow, deep kiss, happily ignoring their morning breath, and not letting him go until he absolutely had to. He watched Yuri get ready for training with a smile on his face and it had been so long since he felt this way. He still wasn’t 100 percent sure, but he definitely felt better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:  
> \- Sexual content  
> \- Implied recreational drug use  
>   
> [ Yuri's dress ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ac/9a/3c/ac9a3c5299c3b5d6745359eb87bd4ff8.jpg)  
> 


	5. Part Three - Half Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek thinks he's ready for a lot of things. He's ready to go back home to Almaty and face the world after it nearly ruined him. He's ready to actually do something about his bad knee and not just hope it fixes itself. And he's ready to knot his boyfriend, kind of. That bit may take some work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
> It's exactly what you think it is.

The conversation didn’t come up for a while again. Not that Otabek’s mind wasn’t still reeling. But of course Yuri Plisetsky would drop a bombshell like that then act like it didn't even happen the next day. Otabek knew his time in Saint Petersburg was coming to an end; he’d been here almost a month. There was still a bit of dark exhaustion that sometimes crept into his mind and muscles some days, but there were things piling up back in Almaty that he couldn’t go on ignoring. And he really really needed to do something about his knee. The stretches were helping, but any prolonged exercises set it off again. He didn’t want to think about it, but he was going to have to, especially since one of the first questions out of Tair or Gennadiy’s mouths was ‘how’s your knee?’ There were some days he couldn’t avoid the question, especially not when they asked his mom to intervene. 

But today had been good; he had picked Yuri up from the rink and they’d gone out for dinner. It was Yuri’s off day tomorrow, so he allowed himself to stay out later than usual. They had eaten at a tiny vegan cafe then walked around the city until Otabek’s ears and nose turned numb and he couldn’t move his mouth properly. Even Yuri seemed exhausted when they finally got back to the apartment, and that was a rare thing in itself, but he’d been going all out in preparation for the Coupe du Printemps on March eighth. Lilia was due back a week after Yuri’s birthday, but Otabek couldn’t justify staying for much longer.

Yuri had been a much needed escape, almost a shield from all the shit that had happened in Almaty. He honestly didn’t deserve him; he helped so much and asked for nothing in return. No amount of expensive dates or gifts would be enough. Sighing softly, he stretched out on his back, folding his arms behind his head.

“Do you want to do anything for your birthday?” he asked as Yuri cuddled up next to him, nuzzling against his chest after what must have been twenty minutes of brushing his hair. His hair was still damp in a long braid down his back, but his smell was comforting.

Yuri blinked. “I dunno. Mila wants to go to the club again. And I think Viktor wanted to have a dinner with everyone.”

Otabek hummed, smoothing a few golden hairs from his temples. “But what do you want to do?”

Yuri seemed to be more interested in his Instagram than answering the question. “Uh, I don’t care.”

“You’re going to be twenty.”

He screwed up his face, scowling at the screen. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I sound so fucking old.”

Otabek scoffed. “Yeah, you’re ancient.” Yuri elbowed him. “Would you want to do something with just the two of us?”

He put down his phone. “Like?”

“I could take you out somewhere fancy and,” he swallowed, “and when we get back home-”

“Birthday sex?” Yuri asked dryly, rolling away and stretching his arms over his head. Otabek waited for him to settle down with his arms folded behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling and his chest rose and fell with a sharp sigh. “Sure.”

Otabek breathed out heavily through his nose, watching as Yuri’s shirt rode up his stomach to reveal a pale strip of skin pulled tight over defined abdominal muscles and a slender waist. It wasn’t like the thin, almost see-through, t-shirt and black boxer briefs he wore to bed left much to the imagination. Despite all his moaning and groaning about being too skinny,Yuri did have an amazing body. Otabek couldn’t look away from the tight muscles of his legs relaxing to gentle curves as he lay flat. Taking a short breath, Otabek bit the inside of his cheek to ground himself.

“I wanted to talk to you about…” he shook his head, rolling onto his side and scratching at a leopard spot on the bed sheet. “You remember when… you asked me to, uh, knot you?”

Yuri’s face and ears turned red instantly, eyes widening to saucers before he could control his expression. “Oh, that.” He kept his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Otabek knew he was fighting to stay calm. He crossed his ankles, one foot bouncing nervously.

“Yes, that-”

“I, uh. It was just… I dunno I was just swept up in things. You don’t have to… yeah.” The bouncing quickened and the rest of him was suddenly way too still.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Otabek said slowly. Yuri bit his lip, blush spreading down his neck. “Were you serious when you asked that? Are you really thinking about it?”

He swallowed, worrying his bottom lip before his mouth formed a few soundless words. “I… dunno.”

“It’s okay if you changed your mind.” He back peddled just in case. “I’m not pressuring you or anything, I just want to know.”

Yuri covered his face with his hands, groaning softly. “I… fuck.” He took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face. “I dunno. I just… that kind of just came out and… fuck. Beka, I…”

Gently trailing a finger along Yuri’s jaw, Otabek tried to bite back a grin. His face was hot to the touch and getting redder by the second. “Hey, you can take your time. What are you trying to say?”

Yuri took a deep shuddering breath, peeking through his fingers. “I… I kinda want it.”

“Kinda?”

He swallowed again, before sitting up and pulling his knees to his chest. “I dunno. When we were… you know. I just really wanted you to.”

Otabek nodded, trailing the back of his hand up and down a stubbly calf a few times before massaging the bony ankle. “And now that you’re thinking with a clear head?” The question had a small, grey bubble growing in his chest. He had wanted to knot him so badly in the moment. It was a good thing that he didn’t if Yuri was having second thoughts now. But the fact that he was having second thoughts had Otabek’s chest tightening. It was okay if he wasn’t ready. He knew he had to be patient with Yuri’s inexperience and his sexual orientation. It was asking more than enough that he even had sex with him in the first place, right? Things had been going too well, there was bound to be a hitch somewhere. Fuck, had he fucked up by bringing it up? Should he have waited for Yuri to have said-

“Are you listening to me?” Yuri flicked the side of his head, an eyebrow raised.

“Uh.” He blinked, swallowing against the sudden icepick in his stomach.

Yuri rolled his eyes and threaded his fingers in the long hair at the top of Otabek’s head. Slender fingers were pinpoints of comfort against Otabek’s scalp. “I said, I still want it.” He took a deep breath. “But that’s kind of a big step isn’t it?”

Oh. He let out a deep breath. “It is. So we should… talk about it.”

Yuri nodded. “I just… I don’t know.”

Otabek focused on the protruding bone on his ankle before gingerly circling a yellow bruise on the side of his foot. “You don’t know what?”

Yuri curled his toes, twitching as Otabek traced a line along the arch of his foot. “Anything.”

“ _Zhanym-_ “

“I really don’t. You fucking gave me my first blow job like last week - I mean I want to but. I _don’t_ know.”

Otabek swallowed. “That’s okay, Yura. You’ve never done this before. I understand-“

“Have you?”

The question was so quick and curt Otabek didn’t follow immediately. “Huh?”

Yuri took a deep breath, batting his hand away from his foot. “Have you knotted anyone before?”

Otabek’s mouth dropped open and all that came out was a stuttering mess of words. “Does it matter to you if I did?” he eventually managed.

Yuri folded his arms across his knees and hid his face in them. “I… yes.”

He winced, screwing his eyes shut. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, _really_?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

Fuck. “Yura, I’m sorry I-”

“No, don’t apologise. It’s just, I don’t know.” He took a deep breath, curling up tighter. “What did it feel like?”

“Um…” he blinked a few times, frowning. “You’re not mad that I…”

Yuri shook his head, slowly raising it from his arms. “Why would I be mad?”

“I… don’t know.” Because he’d done so much before they’d even met? Because sex made Yuri uncomfortable sometimes? Because he was kind of a shitty person and the more Yuri learnt about the more he should hate him for it?

Yuri bit his lip. “I kind of expected it, to be honest.”

Otabek’s face heated and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Oh, Allah. _Expected_ it?”

“I mean it’s good right. You know what to do then,” he turned tomato red and his words sped up almost into one jumble. “It doesn’t have to be a learning experience then.”

He took a deep breath. “It should still be a learning experience.”

Yuri shrugged. “I feel better that at least one of us knows what the fuck’s going on. I heard it hurts so, I… um…”

Otabek swallowed. It would hurt a bit for him, there would be not getting around that, unless he was in heat. But that was a different thing all together. He cleared his throat, shaking the thought from his head and focused on his extremely nervous boyfriend. “Uh, I, it doesn’t have to hurt a lot, if we go slowly and be careful.”

Yuri snorted. “Right. I’ve seen your knot before. There’s no way that’s gonna fit inside me - uh,” he suddenly looked away.

Otabek bit his lip, unable to stop the grin from the pride of Yuri calling him big. He ran his index finger along Yuri’s shin. He was adorable; honestly so very innocent in a strange way. Yuri was a force like a cyclone, but then sometimes he was so soft and small. He wouldn’t be coddled no matter what, though. He’d never be coddled. “You do realise your body can handle pushing out a baby.”

Yuri looked at him like he’d just cursed his entire family and insulted his ancestors. “Fuck off.”

Otabek chuckled, happiness coming from deep within his stomach. He rolled onto his back, shoulder pressing against Yuri’s hip, and stared at the ceiling. “You still have a chance to decide, Yura. But if you do want me to knot you, I’d rather we make it a very special night.”

Yuri was silent for a short while before huffing. “Okay, so it won’t just be birthday sex. God, and you don’t have to treat me like I’m some sort of dumb princess”

“You’re my princess. Prince.”

“Shut up.” He lay down next to him, rolling into his side and setting an arm across Otabek’s chest. Otabek knew he was looking up at him, he could almost feel the heat from his stare. He closed his eyes, relishing in the light, giddy feeling that spiralled out from his chest. Even his toes were tingling. He wrapped an arm around Yuri’s waist, smoothing his palm along the curve of his hip and down to his thigh.

“So we’re really going to do this?” Yuri asked softly.

“If you want,” he mumbled. “If you start second guessing tell me. The moment you say stop, we stop.”

He hummed, nuzzling closer against a Otabek’s side. “I heard it’s supposed to be really emotional and shit.”

Emotional and shit. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. It can be a bit overwhelming actually.”

“How?”

“Um.” He didn’t really know how to put it into words. “It’s different for everyone. But I dunno, when you’re like physically connected to a person that way. It’s, uh, intense.” 

“Who was it that you knotted before?”

“Yura..”

“What? Is it private?”

He swallowed. “Not really. But why do you want to talk about my ex?”

Yuri rose onto his elbows, rage flashing across his face so suddenly panic seized Otabek’s throat. “If you tell you me you knotted Assyl, I swear, Otabek Altin, I will-”

“No. It wasn’t him.” How glad he was it wasn’t. Yuri deflated with an angry huff, going back to aggressively cuddling his side.

“Good.”

His insides withered a bit. “It was when I was still in America. This omega, Caleb. We were dating for almost a year, and I had really liked him.”

“Oh. What happened. Why’d you break up?”

He should have expected all the questions. It wasn’t a sore topic, but still very awkward to discuss with his current boyfriend. He stroked Yuri’s hair, searching for comfort in the sweet smell of his Japanese rice milk shampoo. “It just didn’t work out in the end, I guess.” And he was also only seventeen at the time. He thought he had known everything then, confident that Caleb was the one. It was funny how the older he got the more he realised he really didn’t know anything.

“Oh.” Yuri swallowed, throat bobbing against Otabek’s chest. “That sucks.”

“I don’t care about it now,” he sighed. “I have you.”

Yuri squeezed his waist. They were silent for a few minutes. Otabek mentally prepared himself for more questions, but Yuri seemed satisfied.

“Movies until we pass out?” he asked, already rolling over for his laptop.

Otabek shrugged. “Sure.”

The conversation ended with that; Otabek was still not completely sure if they should go through with it or if they needed to talk about it more. He wanted it, he wanted it so badly, just the thought alone made him short of breath and his stomach tighten with heat.

Yuri, though, ended up snoring ten minutes into the first movie, a testament to just how tired he was, but had refused to admit it. He didn’t normally snore, Otabek realised it only happened when he was flat out exhausted. He didn’t even wake up when Otabek gently rolled him off of his chest to set the computer in the floor, or when Potya jumped onto his stomach before making herself a bed on his pillow. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, slightly curled on his side. It was baffling how someone could look so delicate, so pale and thin that the wind could blow him away, and yet be so strong. Physically and mentally. Yuri had three quads now and the stubbornness to aim for the forth while taking part in a ballet workshop. He didn’t know how he did it. Otabek snapped a few pictures, smiling. He couldn’t post these, but they’d go in the album he had of candid Yuri pictures. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe every time he looked at them, like his chest was collapsing while his stomach dissolved into butterflies.

Reaching out, he gently ran his knuckles along Yuri’s cheek. That was enough to wake him and he batted at Otabek’s hand, wiggling under the covers mumbling gibberish under his breath. Potya settled on top of his head when he finished, curling around him on the pillow. She blinked at Otabek a few times before softly purring and burying her face into Yuri’s hair. He stroked her a few times, smiling as her purring got louder, before getting up to finish getting ready for bed.

“Morning, Ma,” Otabek said, juggling the phone between his shoulder and ear as he scooped out a bit of canned tuna into Potya’s bowl. Yuri said he could give her some, a very tiny bit, if he used it. Potya had come skidding into the kitchen her eyes wide and ears perked up as soon as he opened the can.

“Good morning, _zhanym,_ ” she replied, a tinge of worry in her voice. “Is everything alright?”

Glancing at the wall clock, he nodded and turned the phone on speaker, setting it down on the counter. It was barely seven thirty, much earlier than he’d ever called her before. But he’d gotten up when Yuri hd left and couldn’t get back to sleep. He’d done his exercises and showered, and was feeling good enough that he had made plans for lunch with Yuri. “Yes, Ma. I was just up.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Just making breakfast.”

She laughed softly. “What are you making?”

He shrugged. “Eggs and tuna.”

“Together?”

“Not together. Why would I do that?”

She laughed again. “Oi _zhyndy_. Your father and I went out for breakfast today. The doctor said oatmeal is good for cholesterol, but getting him to eat it. You would think we were forcing him to eat grass.”

Otabek chuckled. “So what did he eat?”

“He got fruit and an omelette.”

Yeah that sounded right. His dad wasn’t the healthiest eater; he had a terrible sweet tooth and would sometimes pick out the vegetables from his meals. Ma was forever nagging him about it. Maybe he could convince him to start exercising when he got back. They could start with walks in the morning or he could copy some of his physio exercises. The thought alone made him smile, looking down at Potya who was patiently licking her lips. His mother would praise him to the moon and back if he got his dad to exercise.

“ _Zhanym_?”

“Hmmm?” he blinked, turning his attention back to the phone.

“I asked how was Yuri.”

“His birthday is coming up. On the first.”

“How lovely. How old will he be? Twenty-three, four?”

“Twenty.”

“Oh, he’s that much younger than you? I thought he competed-“

“He was the youngest in our bracket for a while.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he’s just that good.” He smiled, watching Potya wind around his legs, starting to meow loudly for her snack. “Okay, Princess, here you go.”

He set her bowl on her mat in the corner and she leapt at it like Yuri hadn’t given her breakfast an hour ago.

“Who’s that?”

“Just the cat, Ma. I gave her a snack.”

She chuckled. “You and that cat. All these years and I had no idea you liked animals so much.”

“I’ve always liked animals. It’s just that they’re messy.”

She huffed. “Cats are clean, _zhanym_.”

He raised an eyebrow. “They bathe themselves in their own saliva.”

“Beka-“

“But I like Potya. She’s uh… She helps me to clear my head when… yeah.”

“Oh? Maybe you should get one when you come home.”

“Maybe.”

There was a short pause. “When are you coming home?”

“I…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I think after Yuri’s birthday.”

“Are you feeling better?” The phrasing was soft and careful. “Don’t push yourself too hard, if you need more time to rest then-“

He stared down into the can of tuna. “I’m okay, Ma.” Almost okay, but getting there.

“Are you sure?”

He rolled his eyes. “Of _course_ I’m _sure_.”

“Don’t use that voice with me, Otabek.”

“Sorry.”

“We only care about you. But if you think you’re ready to come back I’m happy.” A smile stretched his face. “We’ll have to celebrate. A nice dinner-”

And there she went. “Ma, no.” He threw the empty tuna can into the garbage, and washed his hands. “I don’t want anything like that.”

“Beka-”

“No, Ma. I’m just, I’m just coming home, okay. It’s nothing special. I just want it to be… normal.”

She was silent for a few moments. “Alright, if that’s what you want.”

He breathed out heavily through his nose. “Yes. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Let us know when you choose a flight.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Oh, and you’ll never believe who I saw at my class today. You remember Fatima Diasova? You went to school together.” He didn’t remember anyone by that name, but his mother went on without pause. “Would you believe she got married last month? To a Garriev boy, she was telling me all about the wedding.”

Otabek chuckled, turning up the volume on his phone so he could start to prepare his eggs. His mother talked until he had finished eating, suddenly remembering she was supposed to meet one of her friends for lunch.

“Oh and I still have to send the plans over to Mr. Olzhasev-”

“Plans?”

“He’s building a new office, it’s in Astana, but - Oh, stop distracting me. I love you, darling, but I really need to go now. Remember to tell me about your flight.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Yes Ma, yes Ma,” she mimicked. “Have a good day, _zhanym_ , go outside. I love you.”

“Love you, Ma,” he said before hanging up. He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking down at Potya who was grooming herself at his feet. “She’s insane isn’t she?”

It was weird how someone’s meaningless chatter could put him in a good mood. Well, he supposed Yuri was the same. The boy could talk non-stop when he was ready. He was almost as bad as his mom. But Otabek would never tell either of them to stop.

The next week passed in a whirlwind. Just watching Yuri flit between training and ballet made Otabek exhausted. Although, all things considered, his schedule was just as packed between training, DJ gigs, and physio. It just seemed like Yuri did so much more. He only realised he’d been staring at the black television screen for nearly ten minutes when Potya began to lick the water droplets from his ice pack. He jerked, startling her enough to dart away like a bullet.

“Sorry, Princess.” He bent over, reaching under the coffee table. His knee was pretty much numb now, he set the ice pack on the carpet by his foot. Potya slowly came over to investigate. He ran his fingers along her spine, her tail curling around his wrist. “Didn’t see you come in.” He sighed.

Maybe he’d gone a little too hard at the gym. Also, maybe he’d gone too long hoping his knee would fix itself. Tair was going to murder him.

“Going home is gonna suck,” he mumbled. Potya headbutted his leg. “I’m not gonna be able to get on the ice for a while, I bet.” He slumped against the couch, picking up his phone. “Ma’s going to be happy at least.”

With a heavy sigh he got up, and headed to the bedroom for Yuri’s laptop with a cold stone at the bottom of his stomach.

“I booked a flight home.” It came out as soon as Yuri sat down at the kitchen island with his plate. First surprise, followed closely by sadness covered his face. He stared down at his grilled chicken. Otabek’s stomach gurgled, of course he would have been sad. “I can’t stay here forever, Yura.”

“I know you can’t stay,” he snapped. “I just… I didn’t think you’d leave so soon.”

“I’ve been here for like a month.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” He stabbed the chicken with his fork.

Really? “I need to see about my knee.” Amongst other things.

“It’s not getting better?”

“Not really.” Not enough to get back on the ice for sure.

“Fuck.”

“I leave the day before you go to Luxembourg.”

Yuri sighed heavily. “That makes sense, I guess.”

Slowly, Otabek got up from his stool and went to stand behind Yuri. He hugged him tightly, hooking his chin over his shoulder. He could feel each muscle and a few bones shift as Yuri moved. “I’m going to miss you so much.” He felt him swallow.

“I know you have to go back,” he mumbled. “I can’t keep you here like a prisoner. It’s gonna be so weird, though.”

“Weird?”

“Got used to you being here when I get home.” He leaned back against him. “Are you, uh, are you feeling well enough to-”

“Even if I’m not, I have to go.”

“That’s not the answer to my question. Are you feeling any better?”

Otabek shrugged. “Yes, better. Definitely better than when I first got here.”

“But not back to good?”

Not back to good. There was too much to do before that could ever happen. “I think I just need to get back on the ice.”

Yuri nodded. “Yeah.”

Otabek spun his stool around. For once taller than him, he look down into sad, green eyes before Yuri looked away. He hooked a finger under Yuri’s jaw and gently tilted his face upwards. He placed his lips to his forehead, lingering with his nose in soft, baby hairs.

“You’re not keeping me prisoner.” He drew back after a short while, running his thumb along Yuri’s jaw.

“Huh?”

“I came here of my own will, and I got to spend time with my incredibly beautiful boyfriend.” He cupped his face with both palms, smoothing his hair behind his ears.

Yuri’s cheeks turned pink and he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Otabek chuckled, slowly bending his neck and gingerly pressing his lips to Yuri’s. Yuri wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing back just as softly. There was no way he’d be able to tell him, just how much he’d done for him, how much he’d helped, out loud. It was funny that just being around him made Otabek feel calm and content. He didn’t want to leave, he really didn’t, but he had to.

Yuri’s cheek was baby soft and warm under his fingers, and his nails were blunt against the back of his neck and scalp. He let a hand fall from Yuri’s face to his face to his waist, slowly deepening the kiss. Yuri followed along, sighing softly in encouragement. With his stomach tightening in heat and a fire roaring in his chest; he couldn’t thank him aloud, but he could try to show him. He urged Yuri to his feet, having to pause the kiss as the angle changed. Yuri had to have grown more since he’d first come; he just realised how much he was bending to meet him. It would have been a turn-off, his omega being taller than him; he’d always gone for small omegas, tiny things that fit in his arms and under his chin, in the past. But Yuri was so different, so perfect. And to be fair he had started out smaller than him, and who would have ever guessed that he would have such a massive growth spurt.

Still, he dropped his arms to Yuri’s thighs, dipping before pulling him off the ground and into his arms. Yuri wrapped his long, long legs around his waist, smiling into the kiss as a soft giggle bubbled past his lips. He brought him to the couch, laying him along the seat before crawling over him. His pants were tight now, and tight heat was rolling in waves from his gut. It was even a struggle to breathe now, his breath coming in short pants, his lips beginning to feel swollen. Yuri’s face was red, blushing up to his ears and down his chest.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, kissing a line across Yuri’s jaw then down his neck.

“Beka,” Yuri murmured, fingers digging into his biceps.

He shivered, when Otabek pulled his shirt up to his chest, running his palms along his sides. There wasn’t a single part of Yuri that wasn’t perfect. He pressed his lips to the centre of his chest, and breathed in deeply. Yuri’s natural scent was always so light almost barely there, something slightly sweet and clean. He rubbed circles into Yuri’s hips and thighs, spreading his legs apart and settling between them. His knee throbbed at the sudden and extreme bending, but he ignored it, hooking Yuri’s thighs around his hips. Yuri was chewing his lip, eyes wide and his hands had stilled, clutching Otabek’s shoulders with almost all of his strength.

His stomach tightened, twisting around a ball of fire. He pulled Yuri closer, right up onto his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist. The pressure of Yuri’s ass against his throbbing cock could only be described as heavenly. He ground up into him, Yuri jolting slightly a soft soft gasp barrelled from his mouth.

“Bek…”

Otabek dipped his head back down, kissing down his sternum, slowly making his way down the long line of his abs. He smoothed his hand along his sides, curling his fingers around that slender waist, and hard muscles. He circled his hip bones, nipping at the skin above his navel, tongue circling the tiny indent. Yuri shuddered and Otabek grinned, pressing his nose flat against Yuri’s stomach. His hands went under Yuri’s shorts, massaging his ass, grabbing handfuls and squeezing. Fuck, he was just so perfect. Breathing was getting harder, his chest was heaving, but everything in his body was like fire. Even his skin was tingling, every inch from his scalp to his cock.

“Beka,” Yuri swallowed heavily, hands like vices on Otabek’s shoulders. Otabek pressed his mouth to the skin below his navel, easing his pants down slowly. Yuri squirmed and the friction against Otabek’s cock made him hiss.

“Beka?” He said a bit louder, a slight tremble in his voice. “No.”

Otabek’s head snapped up and something curled and withered to dust in his stomach. He let go of Yuri’s sides. Slowly, backing away. Like that, everything had gone cold. Fuck, what went wrong? What did he do? He tried to take a few calming breaths, but they all caught in his throat. Fuck.

Yuri’s chest was heaving, and he was biting his lip, nervous. He pulled his pants back up, pressing himself against the far armrest and hung his head, rubbing his temples. Otabek wanted to punch himself. He’d messed things up again. He swallowed, but even that caught in his throat as well.

“Yura?” Otabek ventured, eventually. “What’s wrong?”

Yuri shook his head. “I… just. I dunno. You said you were leaving just a minute ago. I don’t really… I can’t…” he shook his head again. “I don’t want sex right now. Sorry.”

Otabek took a deep breath, standing. “That’s alright.” It came out like a rush of air. He scratched the back of his neck, before running a hand through his hair. Okay. Fuck. He’d definitely messed things up. “It’s okay.”

He watched Yuri wrap his arms around his knees, cheeks still red. “Sorry, I’m just not…”

“It’s okay,” he repeated, coughing to clear his throat. Just fuck.

“Bek-“

“It’s fine.” Shit. He should have known something was off. He should have been able to tell. Yuri was fucking asexual; he should have at least noticed something. Fuck. So what about all the other times? Was he faking it? Forcing himself to go on? Otabek’s insides twisted. Fuck. He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs refused. “Are you okay? Did I, uh…”

“Did you… what?”

He shook his head. “No, uh, sorry.”

Yuri chewed his lip. “We can… maybe later.”

“It’s fine.” He could hear the lie in his voice and wondered if it was that obvious to Yuri. “Don’t even worry about it. You don’t want it, then you don’t want it.”

Yuri sighed heavily. “Okay.” He stood up, moving stiffly both looking like he wanted to run away and to hug him. But in the end he just went back to the kitchen island and his now cold dinner. A heavy silence fell like a wet blanket.

“We can watch a movie or-“

Otabek shook his head. “Actually, I didn’t do my exercises yet. I mean, I should probably like head to the gym or something.”

“Oh,” Yuri blinked, chewing his lip again. “Yeah. You should do that then.”

Nodding, he quickly went to change. When he left the apartment, Yuri was curled up on the couch with his phone, and his dinner was still untouched in the kitchen.

Working out until he could barely move helped. It helped when he was too tired to think. Pull ups cleared his head. Crunches and sit ups, made him take a few steps back from his problems.

Yuri was asexual. That was a fact he knew very well. It had all been going too well. And to put himself in Yuri’s mind, the mind of a perfectionist, someone who obsessed over details and had a single track mind for anything important. Otabek breathed out deeply, picking up a pair of dumbbells and headed over to a bench. Yuri was hung up on the fact that he was leaving. That was all there was to it. It was better that he had said no, than just letting him have his way. Oh Allah, he hopped that had never happened before. Fuck, he needed to be better.

He stumbled back to the apartment, nearly two hours later with his knee throbbing. But he’d managed to convince himself not to feel like a complete asshole, for nearly forcing his asexual boyfriend to have sex with him. Yuri wasn’t in the living room anymore, but his bedroom door was cracked open and the light was on. It was late, he glanced at his phone. Nearly eleven, and if Yuri had to be up at five again tomorrow, he really should have been sleeping already. Otabek went to the bathroom first.

Yuri was still awake, but struggling. He mumbled something indecipherable when Otabek came into the bedroom, and sleepily watched him pull on a pair of underwear and a shirt. Otabek hated that he had to sit down to put on his underwear and when he briefly examined his knee it did look a bit swollen and red.

Yuri mumbled something again, and when Otabek turned around he was holding up the blankets for him, his eyes half shut. A small smile broke out on his face, watching Yuri in a near comma. He slipped under the covers and Yuri attached himself to his side, wrapping around him like a boa constrictor. Otabek hugged him back, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“You okay, Yuriyim?”

He nodded, mumbling something again.

“What was that?”

Yuri frowned, screwing up his face in an effort to stay awake. “I’m gonna miss you.” His words were still slurred.

Otabek kissed his forehead. “I know. I wish we could live together all the time, forever.”

“But you have to go back. You should.”

Otabek nodded. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “We still have like almost two weeks, though.”

Yuri nodded and was silent for so long Otabek had thought he’d fallen asleep. But as he rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp, Yuri’s arms tightened around his waist.

“I’m glad you’re going back.” His words were so slurred they were nearly impossible to understand.

“Pardon?”

“I’m glad. I want you to feel better and get back on the ice. I want you to compete,” he yawned. “But I don’t want you to leave.”

Otabek smiled, rubbing slow, large circles against Yuri’s back. “I know, _zhanym_.” His lungs trembled with each breath. But the coldness from before was all but gone. Not seeing Yuri every day was going to hurt like hell, but once he got his life back together maybe he’d be able to face him without all the guilt. Yuri deserved that, he deserved the best from him. And in time, they could probably end up living together again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for chapter warnings

Otabek could tell that trouble was brewing the second he entered Yuri’s bedroom. His clothes were everywhere, and he was sitting on the edge of his bed, in a towel, scowling at his mat as he stroked Potya. His hair was dripping down his back, and goosebumps covered his arms; he’d been there for a while. Otabek paused for a second in the doorway. Yuri had seemed annoyed when he had gotten home, and had spent much longer than normal in the shower. Had something happened at the rink? Did Mila cancel? The thought was appealing, honestly; he was more than ready to trade his jeans for sweatpants and call it a night. But it was Yuri’s birthday party, one of many but still, so he had to suck it up and go. After finding out what was wrong with his boyfriend first, though. He sighed softly, picking his way through discarded leggings, leotards, T-shirts, and the contents of an upended gym bag. 

“Yura?” Otabek sat down next to him, and Potya moved to his lap, purring. Yuri turned his scowl on him. “You okay?” 

“I don’t wanna go,” he spat. 

“Hmmm?”

“To the club. Mila picked one that I hate, and all her friends are coming, and they’re bringing more people, _and_ she invited the hockey players when we left the rink today.”

Oh. Well he definitely didn’t want to go now. “Too many people?” 

“It’s not even that. She didn’t even ask if I was okay with it. Like, I don’t even know half the people who are supposed to be coming with us. It’s gonna be so weird.”

He hummed, wondering if he could get Yuri to stay home without actually saying anything. “Have you told her?” 

“No. She planned the whole thing; she got us a private room and everything. What the fuck am I supposed to say?”

Valid point. Fuck. “So, what do you wanna do?” 

Yuri gumbled, flopping against Otabek’s shoulder. “I have to go.” 

Otabek kissed his forehead, hugging him with one arm. “Once you have a few drinks it’s not going to seem so bad.” It was probably bad advice, but there was truth to it. He was already planning on drinking enough to make the night bearable. 

“I’m not wearing heels either.” 

Chuckling, he kissed him again. “You can wear whatever you want.” 

Yuri sighed. “If we really don’t have a good time-”

“We’ll leave.” He squeezed his shoulder. “I can say I’m not feeling well.” 

Yuri blinked. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t the worst excuse he’d come up with. Sometimes he didn’t even bother with being polite. And this time it wasn’t really a lie. “Just tell me when you’ve had enough.” 

He almost jumped when he felt fingers on the underside of his jaw, but Yuri was guiding his face towards his. Otabek held his breath, almost afraid this his breathing would scare Yuri off. The kiss was soft and slow, but Otabek was jumping up and down inside because Yuri had, out of the blue, initiated it. It was just a kiss, small steps, but it really meant so much all the same. They both knew where things might end up tonight if it all went well at the club. That’s what the plan was anyway, they’d go out then come back and have an even better time in bed. Right. Except today already wasn’t going well. Still, Otabek was smiling when they parted. Yuri ran his thumb along his jaw, a small smile toying on his lips as well. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as bad if he got to stare at Yuri’s face the entire time. 

“Is this a new look?” Yuri asked, rubbing tiny circles along the edge of his jaw. “Going all stubbly? It makes you look older.” 

He brought a hand to his jaw, rubbing at the sandpaper hairs. “A good kind of older or?”

“Yeah. Like a sexy movie star or some shit.”

Otabek scoffed. “I was going to shave, but someone was taking forever in the bathroom.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “It’s all part of my master plan.”

“What? Your plan for making me grow a beard?” 

He snorted, standing up. “I don’t think I’d like you with a beard.” 

Yuri finished getting ready right as Mila called to ask where they were. True to his word, Yuri hadn’t really dressed up. He wasn’t really wearing makeup, and he’d pulled his hair up into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, with a few strands hanging around his face. They were actually dressed pretty similar with plain t-shirts under blazers and jeans. Except Yuri’s metallic, platform sneakers were something he’d never imagine wearing. He’d actually done a double take when Yuri had come out of his room. He was so used to him in dresses or shorts and skirts when they went out, it was almost like he’d forgotten he was also a guy. He was still unbelievably hot though. 

“Are you copying me?” he asked playfully, standing from the couch.

Yuri raised an eyebrow, staring Otabek up and down. “Fuck. I didn’t realise you were wearing a v-neck too.” 

“It’s okay, we can match,” Otabek chuckled. 

He scowled, holding up a finger. “Fuck that, I’m changing.” He came back out in a dark red button-up, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. 

“Still hot,” Otabek observed.

“Shut up.” 

Mila also did a double take when she met them outside the club and Yuri rolled his eyes so hard, Otabek felt it. He leaned against Otabek’s shoulder, his shoes giving him enough height to comfortably use him as an armrest. 

“What?” He snapped. 

Thankfully Mila had enough common sense and social intelligence to just smile. “You look hot.” 

“Huh?” Otabek knew Yuri had been ready to fight. 

“A bit skinny but, I know some girls are into the whole pretty guy thing.”

“What?” 

Otabek scoffed at the baffled look on Yuri’s face. 

“You know, like a really tall k-pop star.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Grinning, Mila tugged Yuri from Otabek’s shoulder. “I’m really liking the scruffy look.”

“Oh my God,” Yuri whined, shoving her towards the entrance. “How much have you drunk already? Is anyone else here?” 

The private room was decent, but the seats were a squeaky vinyl and one of the speakers was broken; the bass was way off. A few of Mila’s friends were already there, taking selfies with their drinks and there were a few huge, stocky guys, who he assumed were the hockey players. Yuri was scowling at everything. 

Sighing, Otabek squeezed his waist. “I’m going to the bar, you want anything?” 

Yuri shrugged, going over to a table in the corner and planting his feet, like he was about to pick a fight with one of the hockey players. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said rolling his eyes. He was sure that a private room would have come with bottle service, but it was a good idea to check the whole place out. He could tell why Yuri didn’t really like it. They stage was too small and not high enough, the dance floor was too close to the bar, and there wasn’t much room to just hang out and have a drink. The bar was nearly hidden behind the speakers making it nearly impossible for the bartenders to hear drink orders, and it was warmer than comfortable, probably something to do with how small it was. But with a crowd of this size they had to have been doing something right. It took one of the bartenders at least five minutes to even notice him and nearly twice as long to actually get his drinks. He ordered two gin and tonics, because waiting for a fruity cocktail for Yuri wasn’t about to happen in this crowd, and made note of where the bathrooms were on his way back. He was glad for the private room; Mila had made a really good call. 

When he got back, nearly spilling the drinks more than once after people bumped into him, he was actually shocked to see Yuri with two girls standing around one of the high tables. He didn’t recognise them, but Yuri seemed comfortable enough. He slid up next to him, handing him his drink. 

Yuri wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him tight against his side. The girls looked at him with polite, inquisitive smiles. It was somehow like staring at three Yuri’s even though they looked nothing alike. 

“Uh, hey.” He gave them a small nod. 

“This is Beka,” Yuri introduced, “my boyfriend.” 

One of the girls nearly choked on a tumbler of something clear. “I still can’t believe it.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “This is Dani and Jelena. They were in Lilia’s show last year.” 

“Oh,” ballerinas. No wonder, straight backs, neat and put together. Little Lilia’s. It wasn’t that cool to generalise, but they did have an air about them that was spookily similar to how Yuri got when Lilia was around. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

They smiled at him, sizing him up and down. Otabek couldn’t tell if they were impressed or not, but they shook his hand. 

“Stella told me to tell you happy birthday.” Jelena grinned, turning back to Yuri.

Yuri’s eyes looked like they were going to drop out of his head. Otabek assumed that was the ballerina he was obsessed with. “Really?” 

“Yeah, she asked how you were doing and everything. I showed her your Instagram.” 

“Uh…” 

“Look how red he got.” 

“You know, she’s pretty cool. If you’d just talk to her.”

Yuri shook his head violently and Otabek snickered, tightening the arm around his waist. Adorable. He didn’t know why, but seeing Yuri with his own friends made some sort of warmth expand in his chest. He couldn’t understand half of what they were saying, especially when Jelena starting talking about Lilia’s show this year. Mila came to check up on Yuri a few times, bringing him drinks each time. Otabek watched him drink all of them, taking pictures as he tugged more hair out of his bun and his cheeks got redder. He sent a few pictures to Iska and the others just to prove that he had gone out. The girls had pulled him in for a few selfies and found him on Instagram without even asking him for his handle. They seemed nice, genuinely nice, and he wondered why Yuri didn’t talk about them more, or if he’d have to push him to be more friendly. Shaking his head and watching the three of them laugh at something, he was such a hypocrite. He couldn’t even get his own shit together, yet here he was worried about Yuri making and keeping friends of his own.

“You okay?” Yuri asked, suddenly turning to him. 

“Yeah.” He shrugged. 

Yuri tilted his head. “You wanna dance?” 

“When have I ever wanted to dance?” Yuri blinked a few times, his mouth falling open slightly. Otabek internally pinched himself. “I’m good, Yura. You can go have fun with your friends.” 

Thankfully Yuri was too buzzed to think and stew about it. He turned to the girls and repeated the question. They nodded, finished their drinks and headed to the main part of the club. Otabek watched them go before sinking down onto one of the empty benches. The vinyl was sticky and squeaked when he moved. 

“Hey,” Mila was at his side in seconds. The seat loudly announced her presence. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he sighed, his spine itching. Fuck he just wanted to be alone for a minute. “Just a bit tired.”

Mila squeezed his shoulder. “Thanks for coming out, though. I know it means a lot to Yuri. Especially since you haven’t been doing so well.” 

“Yeah.” Oh Allah, please make her go away, he pleaded, grinding his teeth. 

She crossed her legs, leaning back against the wall. Fuck. “Really, though. Are you okay?” 

Otabek blinked, frowning as something cracked inside his chest. Mila had no right to be worried about him; they weren’t even that close. The question shocked him. “I… yeah. I’m getting better.”

“But not quite there yet, huh?” He wanted to laugh. Even she could tell. Was it really that obvious? “Are you talking to anyone about it?”

“Not really,” he stared at his lap. “Just Yuri. Kind of.” 

She squeezed his shoulder again. “I know we’re not that close, but if you need someone to talk to who gets it, give me a call. Anytime.”

“Huh?” He looked up at her. Her eyes were clear and earnest, bright blue even in the dim, smokey lighting. “I’m sorry,” he scrambled to say something. “I had no idea.” 

She smiled. “Yeah. I made sure of it.” He swallowed, unsure of what to say next. “ I mean it though. Call me if you need help.” 

“Uh,” he stared at her, searching for something he didn’t even know. “Are you drunk?” 

She laughed, throwing back her head. “No!” She swatted his shoulder. “I’m not drinking tonight.” 

“Why?” He had to wince at how rude that sounded. “Uh, sor-“

She shook her head, squeezing his shoulder yet again. “Sara made me promise.” 

“Oh.”

“And it’s Yurochka’s night. I wanna keep an eye out for him.” 

He looked Mila up and down again before nodding. “I’m glad Yuri has a friend like you.” 

She seemed stunned for a second before grinning. He took a deep breath, hunching over and staring at the floor between his feet. 

“Uh, thanks.” She patted his shoulder. “And I mean it call. Don’t worry about annoying me, or even think that I’m too busy or annoyed. I know how shy you can be.” 

“I’m not shy,” he frowned. “I just don’t like… Uh… I’m not shy.” 

She laughed and Otabek scoffed quietly. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

He hesitated, eyes flickering to the empty glass he’d left on the table. “Nah. I’m good.” 

Yuri ended up having a blast, even boldly wandering up to the hockey players and demanding pictures. Otabek wasn’t sure how much he had to drink, but when he plopped himself onto his lap, throwing his arms around his shoulders and mumbling something that was neither Russian or English or even the few sentences he knew in Japanese Otabek knew it was time to head home. He was sweaty and grinning from ear to ear, almost all of his hair had escaped from his bun and one of his eyes was smudged with black. And he was still so fucking hot; Otabek had no idea how he did that. He had watched him dance with his friends for a while, it was clear that he was stumbling a bit, but even then he was so graceful, his movements so fluid and effortless. When some random guy decided to get handsy he walked up to the three of them, guiding them away. Yuri had forced him to dance for a while too, and he couldn’t help but smile, even though he wasn’t nearly drunk enough. 

It was almost two when they left the club. Mila was getting her friends home, and Otabek had made sure Dani and Jelena got home safely to Dani’s apartment. The girls had both hugged him, and Jelena had mumbled and asked if he had any single brothers or friends. Well, Iska was single, but he shook his head before deciding to humour the drunken girl. His cousin wouldn’t appreciate him setting him up with anyone either. Even if Jelena was really pretty. 

Potya was waiting for them at the front door, and Yuri nearly face planted on the floor trying to pet her. Getting Yuri into the shower was another challenge with him bending all over like a cooked noodle. The water sobered him up slightly, but he was still giggling as he snuggled under the sheets. Otabek sighed, pecking him on the lips. He could still smell alcohol on his breath even after he’d brushed his teeth. 

“It was fun, right Beka?” he whispered, gluing himself to his side. 

Otabek held him tight, burying his nose in damp hair. “Yeah, it was.” He was exhausted, though. 

“You know what would make it even more fun?” 

Otabek froze as Yuri snuggled closer, throwing a leg over his thigh. The thought was never far from his mind, but the plan was that they’d come home from the club, both buzzed and laughing, high off of a good time. And he’d take Yuri to bed and everything would go so smoothly and perfectly. But then a tiny ball of grey had forced in his chest and got bigger with each breath and all he wanted was to stay home and sleep. He didn’t even think he could get his knot to form if they had sex tonight. He might not even get hard. Yuri might not even want it in the first place either; he was drunk. Not even buzzed or tipsy, flat out drunk.

“Yura,” he sighed. “You’re drunk.” 

“That hasn’t stopped us before.” He rested his cheek against Otabek’s chest. 

Not like this. Never like this. “I’m not.” 

“But-“ 

“Go to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning.” 

Yuri swallowed heavily, but yawned right after. And once again Otabek was thankful that he was too drunk to read into it. Instead he snuggled against Otabek’s chest, squirming until he stroked his hair. Like a cat. Otabek’s mouth stretched into a small smile. It had been a good night; everyone had fun. He was just thinking too much about it; maybe he’d feel better tomorrow. 

Viktor’s dinner was the night before Yuri’s birthday. Yuri was beautiful in a skin tight, knee-length black dress with a slit that showed off a dangerous amount of thigh. Even though the dinner was at Viktor and Yuuri’s home, they had been instructed to dress up; Yuri’s blood-red jacket, matched his high-as-fuck heels. Otabek put on a tie and wondered if his cufflinks would be too much for a house party. Yuri took a few obligatory pictures for his Instagram updating his story and tagging Otabek so that his phone exploded with notifications as well. 

Compared to the bar last night the dinner party was pretty quiet. They all sat around the giant dining table, with glasses of champagne and wine, just talking. Yuri’s grandfather had flown in, and was staying with Yakov, but it was just close friends. It was a nice night; he’d drunk enough to make everything seem bright and happy, but it had already been a much better day than yesterday. Call him an asshole, but Yuri had been hungover and wanted to cuddle all day, and Otabek had never had a better time. He’d given Yuri a few painkillers, a sports drink, and some crackers, and watched him snuggle under three layers of fluffy blankets. Yet, he pouted whenever Otabek stopped stroking his back or got up. 

The dinner winded down close to ten; Yuri had kicked off his shoes, and was curled up on the couch, the slit of his dress showing off almost all of his thigh, as he bounced his ankle against Otabek’s leg. Otabek was trying not to stare, he really was, but his phone screen was suddenly so uninteresting. At least Viktor and Yuuri were deep in conversation with Yuri’s Grandpa and Georgi and his wife, they wouldn’t notice if he stared. Smooth pale skin, lines of muscle and soft curves made Otabek short of breath. The front of his pants getting tighter, and Yuri’s leg on his lap wasn’t doing any favours either. He bit his lip staring at his blacked out phone screen. He was honestly just waiting for Yuri to give the word that they could go home. They hadn’t really talked about what would happen later that night, but they would talk about it. Yuri had been hinting that he wanted it, steamy looks when no one else was looking, stolen touches, and one or two light slaps on his ass. They still had to talk, they couldn’t let what happened on the couch the other day happen again. He had to be aware - Yuri’s heel slipped against his crotch, and a gruff grunt fell from the back of his throat. 

Raising an eyebrow, Yuri looked over. “You okay, Beka?” He knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Why,” he mumbled. “Why are you like this?”

Yuri grinned, rolling his heel in slow circles. Otabek wanted to die. “Like what?”

He took a deep breath, glancing quickly to the dining table then pushed Yuri off of his lap. It was a complete accident that he fell off the couch as well, but Otabek couldn’t help but snicker. He landed with a thud; at least there was a shaggy rug to cushion his fall, and he clearly wasn’t hurt when he popped back up and started yelling. 

“Beka! What the hell?” He banged his fists against Otabek’s legs. 

Otabek hid his laughter behind his palm. “Sorry.”

The others were all staring at them. Yuuri was already halfway out of his seat. “What-“ 

“He pushed me off the couch!” He punched Otabek’s thigh.

“It was an accident.” 

“Yeah right-“

With a giant sigh, Yuuri sat back down. “Children behave.” 

“You’re such an asshole-“ 

Otabek grunted, quickly going to grab Yuri’s fist before he could hit his knee again. But it was already pulsing waves of hot pain up his thigh and down his calf. Yuri foze, eyes going wide. He’d flinched pretty hard, nearly kicking the coffee table. 

“Fuck,” he swore. “I’m sorry.”

Otabek grimaced. “It’s okay.” 

Biting his lip, Yuri got up. “You need ice or anything?”

“It’ll be okay. Just-”

“ _Now_ what happened?” This time Yuuri did stand up and was already on his way over.

“Beka’s knee. I hit it.” Yuri looked so guilty and sorrowful, Otabek hated himself for showing that it had hurt. 

“I’m fine. Really.”

Yuuri looked from Yuri to him, before sighing again. “Do I have to put you both in time-out?”

Yuri’s eye twitched and Otabek covered his mouth as he laughed. 

When Yakov and Yuri’s grandfather announced they were leaving and Georgi and his wife weren’t far behind, Otabek called a taxi while Both Yuri’s cleared the remaining glasses and empty wine bottles from the table. Viktor was asleep in his chair mouth open slightly. Yuuri had refused to let him help with anything and still had given him an ice pack for his knee even though he said he was fine. So, he sat watching them speak quietly and laugh softly at whatever. It had been a good night. A good day, and just watching Yuri tie his hair up as he loaded the dishwasher then roll his eyes at something Katsudon muttered in Japanese, had his heart fluttering. He took a few pictures of them, and couldn’t help but grin when he went through his gallery. He was almost disappointed when the taxi arrived. 

The apartment was so quiet Otabek could hear his own heartbeat. They had been making out for a while now. Maybe Yuri was stalling, Otabek sure as hell was. Yuri was sitting on his lap, his dress hiked up to his waist, and his arms loosely around Otabek’s neck. They broke apart with small sighs, staring at each other. Yuri had been mostly silent on the way home, smoothing his thumb in between Otabek’s knuckles. He hadn’t said anything when he lead Otabek to his bedroom, giving him a coy smile before sitting down on the bed. It had been almost hard to breathe, and Otabek’s stomach was full of steaming coals. Why the fuck was he so nervous?

“How’s your knee?” Yuri asked, softly.

Otabek rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. How are _you_ feeling. About this, I mean?”

Yuri swallowed. “It’s not even my birthday yet.”

Otabek glanced at his watch. “It will be in ten minutes.” 

He swallowed again. “Honestly. I still can’t believe… let’s just fucking do this.” 

Otabek scoffed. “So eloquent.” He pressed a soft kiss to Yuri’’s mouth. “So, no second thoughts? It’s not too late to-”

“I want it.”

Otabek blinked a few times. The determination in Yuri’s voice made his gut throb. “Are you-”

“ _Yes_ .” He nearly pulled away. “Are _you_ sure? Cause you fucking seem like you don’t want to and I thought you-”

“I’m just making sure. I don’t want another repeat of what happened when I said I was leaving.” 

“That’s _because you said you were leaving_ . I don’t want sex when I’m _sad_.” 

Sad. Otabek bit his lip, smoothing his palms up and down Yuri’s sides. “Now is okay?”

Yuri rapped his knuckles on the side of his head. “Where the fuck were you? I just said I want it.” 

Yuri’s face was fully red and he was glaring at a spot over Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek took a deep breath, a tension releasing in his stomach. Yuri wanted this. He’d made sure and that was all he could do. Plus, they could always stop if it got to be too much for him. He ran his palms along Yuri’s thighs. His hands looked almost like bronze against Yuri’s pale skin. He really did need a tan, but Otabek knew how easily he burnt so he’d never suggest it. He bit back a chuckle, pulling Yuri flush against his chest. 

“Okay.” 

Yuri’s eyes widened slightly and he took a deep breath, startling when Otabek’s fingers found the zipper at the back of his dress. Otabek eased the sleeves down his arms and the fabric pooled around his waist. Yuri’s chest rose with each deep breath and Otabek stared at him almost hypnotised. He was all smooth skin, tight muscles, and so perfect. So perfect he couldn’t believe this was even happening. He wasn’t sure if it was the pressure from Yuri sitting on him, or just his pants growing tighter, but he felt himself twitch, heat practically throbbing between his legs. He swallowed, glancing up at Yuri who was chewing his lip, pupils blown and cheeks red. He gave him a small nod. 

They went slow. Otabek taking his time to lay Yuri across the bed and undress him fully. He worked him open until he was gasping for air and clutching at the sheets. Yuri held onto him, back arching beautifully when he finally slid into him, mouth hanging open in a high moan. His hair was splayed across the pillows, and his eyes were glassy, pupils blown as he looked up at Otabek. He’d already made a deep red bruise on the side of his neck, right below his scent gland, and a few smaller ones surrounding it. Yuri was going to kill him tomorrow, but for now he just bared his neck, asking for more. 

The fire in Otabek’s stomach was roaring; steam was in his lungs. Yuri’s scent had him lightheaded as he buried his nose where it was strongest, behind his ear. Yuri moaned softly each time he thrust in. He tried to keep his pace slow and even, to build everything up, but Yuri was so tight and slick around him, muscles contracting around him, pulling him in so tightly he felt it in his stomach, that slow was seeming impossible. 

Short, uneven nails dug into his back and shoulders as he sealed his mouth around Yuri’s scent gland. Yuri had been getting bolder, confident enough to dig his nails in like this. It made something deep in Otabek’s gut throb. He slammed into Yuri, losing himself for a second, pushing Yuri hard against the mattress. He moaned, curling around Otabek, a heel slamming into the small of his back. Grinning, Otabek found his mouth, and sealed their lips together, drinking in all the little moans and whines. Yuri held on tightly, tangling a hand in his hair and keeping him from pulling away. 

If there had been any doubt left over about Yuri wanting this, it was whipped out. He was forcing himself to pay attention to Yuri. Forcing a part of his mind to stay alert and just feel him. Yuri was holding on to him for his life, thighs spread wide, and was so wet there was no doubt at all how much he was enjoying it. He was hard between them, little moans escaping from the kiss while he refused to let Otabek move his lips from his. He didn’t know what he had ever done to deserve him, but his chest got tight and he was chasing his breath when he thought about it. And fuck, he was going to knot him, make him his and keep him forever. 

Otabek felt his knot forming as Yuri dragged his nails up his back, muffling a moan by biting his shoulder. He pushed Yuri flat on his back, grabbing his thighs and opening his legs further apart as he quickened his pace. Yuri froze, his mouth hanging open and his eyes widened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and Otabek pressed his nose to the darkening mark on the side of his neck. Yuri threaded his fingers into his hair, adjusting his hips. His chest was heaving against Otabek’s, and he could feel a slight tremor in his thighs. 

It started as a fiery tingle in the base of his cock, and with each thrust Yuri felt tighter and hotter, pulling him in deeper then refusing to let go. It hadn’t taken long for his knot to start to form at all. 

A small whimper cut through everything, and he realised how hard Yuri’s nails were digging into his shoulders.

“You okay?” he whispered into his ear. 

Yuri let go a shuddering gasp. “Keep going.” 

Otabek nipped at the reddened skin. Yuri jotled, mouth falling open in a loud gasp. “Are you okay?” he asked again, forcing himself to slow down to a painful pace. 

Yuri swallowed, before taking a few raspy breaths. “Hurts.”

He stopped moving completely and kissed all over his face, smoothing stray hairs from his forehead. “Too much?”

“No,” he gasped again. “Just, fuck.”

Otabek breathed in deeply, fighting down the fire in his stomach. “Okay.” He kissed him. “Try to relax.”

Yuri nodded, biting his lip. 

“It’ll feel good soon, I promise.” Clenching his jaw to keep still, he reached between them curling his fist around Yuri’s cock. Yuri jumped letting out a shaky gasp and Otabek caressed him with feather light touches. 

“Realx,” he murmured, kissing the side of Yuri’s jaw. He was trembling fully now, eyes screwed shut and teeth working his lip. But his hips were canting up, chasing Otabek’s hand. He was leaking from the head of his cock. Slowly, ever so slowly, he rocked into him, hissing at the tightness. 

Yuri whimpered, clutching Otabek’s shoulder and possibly drawing blood with his nails. But the sharp sting couldn’t have been anything compared to what he was feeling right now. Otabek kissed him again. 

“Shhh, we’re almost there.” 

Yuri nodded, his breath was like steam against Otabek’s neck and chest. He felt like he was going to burst, the pressure in and around his cock was almost too much; Yuri’s rightness was almost too much. He took a deep breath himself, rolling his thumb along the head of Yuri’s cock. He knew Yuri was torn between pain and pleasure, and all he could do was wish that he could have been in heat so it wouldn't hurt half as much. Yet, his own release was drawing closer by the second. His stomach was tightening, heat spiraling from his cock, even his toes were tingling. He let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in Yuri’s scent. He pushed in deeper, almost all the way in now, and Yuri squirmed, readjusting his hips, and spreading his legs wider. He trailed a finger along the underside of Yuri’s cock, feeling the way he twitching in the muscles of his ass clenching even tighter around him. 

“Yura?”

“Keep going,” Yuri’s voice was breathless and he ended in a long sigh. 

“You okay-”

His hand tightened around Otabek’s bicep. “If you fucking stop now, I’m going to slit your throat with my skates.” He swallowed a moan, bucking up into Otabek’s hand. 

Okay. Otabek licked his lips, finally pushing in the last few millimeters. Yuri sunk his teeth into the tendon at the side of his neck, back arching and inner walls contracting. Otabek’s eyes nearly rolled back in their sockets. His stomach churned, and everything tightened around a swirling fire in the pit of his stomach. 

“Shit,” Yuri swore, throwing his head back against the pillows. “Shit shit shit shit shit shit-”

“Yura?”

“Fuck!”

“Are you-”

Yuri’s hand were tight on either side of his face, as he held him in place to kiss him so deeply that he just about forgot about everything else, just the hot, silky mouth clumsy tongue and the occasion bite of teeth. Yuri pulled at his hair, hips rolling every so slightly even as his thighs were trembling. Otabek managed to catch himself before he lost it all, tightening his grip on Yuri’s cock and pumping him with a mission now. The tightness was almost unbearable, he was literally going to explode. He held his breath as sparks swirled and ignited in his gut. His fingers and toes felt like they were going numb, but all he could concentrate on was how hot and tight Yuri was, the way his walls contracted as if to pull him in deeper. It was like smoke filled his lungs and head, blood was pounding his ears and the harder he tried to hold on, the tighter and hotter everything became, sparks traveling all over his body.

He broke the kiss, fighting to form a sentence. “Yura, I’m-”

Yuri answered him with a high moan then it was like a sheet of white was dropped over Otabek’s head. His ears were filled with a high pitched ringing as a wave of red-hot heat took him over. Colours danced behind his eyelids, the mattress spun and swayed underneath him. He was breathing in cotton candy and everything was just so fucking good. At the back of his head he heard himself moan Yuri’s name like he was dying, and Yuri practically screamed. 

The release left him with bones like jelly and eyelids like lead. Every nerve ending was buzzing as he slowly became away of the bed, the sheets, of Yuri nuzzling the hollow of his throat and the far less urgent, but still just as pleasurable, pulsing tightness around his cock. He had to fight to get his breathing back to normal and stroked the back of Yuri’s hand with the hand that wasn’t covered in Yuri’s watery release. He felt lips against his collar bone and suddenly he was floating again, but with a slender, lean body wrapped around him. He could honestly say he was content, every muscle fibre just felt good and relaxed, and Yuri’s scnet was still strong in his nose. It was perfect. 

“Yura?” his voice was hoarse.

“I get it now,” Yuri mumbled, pressing his palm flat against Otabek’s racing heart. 

“Hmmm?”

“Shit, this feels so good.”

Otabek’s chest swelled, and he pressed his lips to Yuri’s temple. His eyes prickled even though he hadn’t opened them yet. Warm tears gathered at the corners of his eyes before he could even do anything, and he took a deep breath that sounded suspiciously watery to his own ears. His chest wasn’t big enough for both his heart and lungs.

“Beka?”

Yeah. Knotting was overwhelming. He’d never cried before, though. 

“Beka?” Yuri’s fingers were hot against his cheek. Every movement he made made it even more obvious how tightly they were connected. His entire body wasn’t big enough for how he felt right now.

“I’m okay,” he blubbered. Actually blubbered. “I just, I love you so fucking much. Are you okay?”

Yuri kissed him softly, slowly and just enough to make Otabek’s heart stop and make him wonder how he was even able to feel this much.

“I never want to you to move ever again,” Yuri whispered. “I want to stay like this forever.” 

The next morning Otabek woke with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Sexual Content


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning in end notes

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Yuri’s voice was loud even from the bathroom. Otabek grimaced, rolling onto his elbows. Allah, the bed felt so nice and his muscles felt like mush. How was he supposed to move?Why was Yuri even up? They should be spending the entire day in bed. Maybe having a repeat performance of the night before. 

”Otabek Kemhebekuly Altin!”

Ouch, the full name. Okay. Otabek sighed and stretched; his spine popping made him groan in relief. He rolled out of the bed, only stumbling slightly this time, and grabbed his glasses from the nightstand.

“What?” he yawned as he unintentionally slammed his shoulder against the bathroom door frame. It was still too early for his body to be cooperating fully. 

Yuri was leaning over the sink, his neck bent oddly to get a better look at the dark purple bruise right under his ear. Oh. Right. Shit. Otabek slowly backed away from the bathroom. Yuri glared at him from his reflection in the mirror. 

“You stay right there.” Otabek froze, his spine tingling like he was in deep trouble. Yuri covered the bruise with his palm before growling, “Are you a fucking vampire?” 

Otabek bit his lip, trying not to make eye contact. All sorts of things were churning in his stomach, and at the top of the list was a sudden fierce heat from staring at Yuri in nothing but neon green briefs, sex-hair, and a huge love-bite on his neck. The look should have been completed with a lazy, fucked-out smile, an outstretched hand and a soft, heated kiss, but Yuri was clearly not on the same wavelength. 

“How the fuck am I supposed to cover this up?” He folded his arms across his chest.

He shrugged. That’s not what he had said last night. It was through the grace of Allah alone he didn’t say that aloud, but he rolled the ball of his tongue piercing against the roof of his mouth remembering how Yuri had squirmed and moaned when he kissed and sucked at his scent gland. He took a deep breath, failing to ignore the rush of heat in his groin. He had wanted to mark Yuri, it was basic instinct; he wasn’t the one to blame. Yuri was _his_ , and they had already gone public with their relationship; he was just proving a point - in the hottest way possible. “Don’t.” 

Yuri’s eyes narrowed and he spun around, hands on his hips. “ _Don’t_? Are you insane - what’s that?” 

His irritation evaporated so quickly Otabek felt the whiplash. He frowned, following Yuri’s line of sight to his bicep. There were a few scabbed over scratches amongst small discoloured spots. So, Yuri had broken skin. His back must have looked a mess then. He hadn’t realised Yuri’s nails were that long. He chewed his lip, holding his breath as he felt his cock begin to stir, and focused on Yuri’s fingers. Well most of his nails were short and chewed down, but two on his right hand and three on his left had enough length to do some damage. He licked his lips, just noticing how dry his mouth felt.

“Well, you were holding on pretty tightly, I guess.” He shrugged, hoping that it looked like he was just _casually_ crossing his legs.

Yuri blinked like an owl. “I… I did that?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But don’t worry, it was hot. I told you; I like it when you’re a bit rough.”

Yuri covered his face with his hands. “Yeah, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He scoffed. “I’m not hurt, Yura. I barely feel anything on my back-”

“Your back too? Fuck, turn around.” Rolling his eyes, he obeyed. “Shit, Beka I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, it just means I was doing _something_ right, right?” He glanced over his shoulder to the mirror. And it really wasn’t bad. A few grazes along his shoulder blades, one parallel to his spine; he’d had so much worse before. Yuri’s nails were short and harmless, unlike when he had sex with someone with acrylic nails and came out looking like he’d been in a fight wit a bear. He glanced back to Yuri who had frozen with his mouth open. His face was red, and it took him a second to figure out why. He grinned, turning back around and walking up to Yuri, loosely wrapping his arms around his waist. “I mean, I should be asking if you’re okay. I’ve never heard you scream like that before.”

“Shut up.” He got even redder. “You weren’t lying.” He took a deep breath through his nose before meeting Otabek’s gaze. “It was… intense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He broke eye contact, suddenly jumpy and shy again. ‘Do you, uh… do you think we could uh, do it again, uh, before you leave?”

Otabek was suddenly floating up to the ceiling. His heart was hammering, his head spun while waves crashed over his head and angels started to sing. His stomach dropped out like he was on a rollercoaster, and everything started to buzz and flutter. 

“Beka?”

He cleared his throat, trying to ground himself. “I thought you wouldn’t be in a rush to try it again. Aren’t you sore?” He knew he was sore, he’d been limping on his way to the bathroom. 

“Yeah, but…” Yuri chewed his lip. “It felt really... really good.”

Otabek took a deep breath through his nose, biting his lip to stop a grin. Okay, play it cool; he didn’t need to scare Yuri off. “Alright.” His grin slipped out anyway. “As many times as you want.” Yuri turned scarlet and Otabek stepped up to him, settling his hands on his hips and drumming his fingers against the bone. 

“God, do you even hear yourself sometimes?” Yuri grumbled. 

Still grinning, Otabek guided his face down for a soft kiss. Yuri’s hands went to his shoulders and he gingerly ran his palms up and down, mindful of the scratches. 

“Hey,” Otabek mumbled when they broke apart. 

“Hmmm?”

He kissed him again. “Happy birthday.” Yuri turned to actual jelly in his arms, slumping down until he could fit under Otabek’s chin. There was nothing that was going to take the smile off of Otabek’s face that day. 

Except, 

“You’re going to practice?” Otabek asked, staring at Yuri’s packed gym bag. He hadn’t even taken that long in the shower; how was Yuri ready to leave the apartment already?

“I have a competition in like two weeks,” Yuri deadpanned. Otabek shrugged. Right. Stuff like that didn’t stop just because of birthdays. “I mean, Yakov was nice enough to give me the morning, but I still wanna work on that dumb step sequence Viktor put in just to mess me up.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s the exact reason why he choreographed it.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “He forgets I’m not Katsudon.” He poked at the knot at the front of Otabek’s towel. “I should be back by like six-”

“I’ll come with.” He had no clue what had made him say that.

Yuri’s eyes went wide. “Huh? You sure?”

“Yeah. I haven’t been to a rink in like a month.” Allah, it hurt to say that. Even Yuri’s expression sunk, as he bit his lip and looked away.

“Oh, right. Well yeah. Hurry up and get dressed, though; Yakov will kill me if I’m late.” 

The chemically smell of the air stung his nose at first, it really had been way too long, and the sudden chill made his eyes water. He slipped onto a seat a few rows back from the rink as Yuri bounded over to Yakov and Viktor over at the sideboards. He watched Viktor scoop Yuri up in a huge hug, lifting him right off his feet. Yuri punched his shoulder and Viktor’s bark of laughter echoed around the rink. He squeezed Yuri tighter before setting him down, then Yakov gave Yuri a less enthusiastic, but just as tight, hug before ruffing his hair with a small smile. Allah, that was almost too sweet, Otabek’s chest was actually warm from watching. He waved when Viktor noticed him and gave Yakov a nod. Yuri had managed to cover the love bite with a copious amount of makeup, or Viktor’s smile would have been a death glare. 

When he’d first found out about Yuri’s family life, he didn’t know how to react. One night Yuri had flat out told him that his father had died when he was really young and his mother had walked out on him not much later. Honestly, Otabek couldn’t imagine his life without his parents or his brothers and sisters. He felt sorry for him for sure, but he so obviously didn’t have to; Definitely not withYakov, Viktor, Yuuri, and Lilia around. He had a big loving family of his own. He watched silently as Yuri did a few warm up drills, gracefully weaving in between a few recreational skaters and a family with two small children. He did a tight upright spin, before gliding backwards back to Yakov. Otabek bit the inside of his cheek; he should have been on the ice too. He really really needed to get back to practice; his stomach churned as the centre of his back began to itch. 

Tearing his eyes away from Yuri was harder than he thought, especially when after a short conversation with Viktor, he took off in a step sequence so complicated it looked like it would give even Yuuri trouble. He sighed, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through his notifications. Yuri had tagged him in a picture earlier, apparently; he tapped on the notification. Also, when had he even posted that? He literally had been in the bathroom for like five minutes. It was a birthday post of course, another picture of the two of them dressed up from the night before. And Allah, Yuri looked so good in that dress. He could moan and groan all he wanted about being too skinny, but in that skintight dress he was better than any Instagram model Otabek had ever seen. 

**Yuri_plisetsky:** Thanks **@otabek-altin** for one of the best birthday presents I’ve ever had. 

Otabek smiled at the caption, eyes skimming over the hashtag boyfriend. Yuri was unbelievable sometimes. Was he talking about the dinner or the sex? Yeah, best birthday present indeed. He looked up just in time to see him land a perfect double toe loop. The crack of blades landing against the ice almost deafening. Well, at least he wasn’t sore anymore. 

Internally chuckling, he scrolled through some of the 100 comments. Most were Angels wishing him happy birthday and freaking out about how good he looked. And then there was the occasional thirsty guy chiming in with unwanted opinions. He rolled his eyes, staring at one in particular. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** How about you leave that midget and come find a real alpha instead. 

A real fucking alpha. Right. He wished he could delete that comment before Yuri could see it. He was used to people making fun of his height, Allah, he’d grown up with Maalik. He only really got annoyed when Bal did some shit like patted his head or held things up so he couldn’t reach them. He wasn’t even that short; he was average height in Kazakhstan. And Yuri had also been wearing some really high heels and gave not one flying fuck that he was taller. 

Someone had replied to him, though. An Angel probably. He tapped the see replies button, eyebrows shooting up at the amount of messages in the chain. 

**Platinumtr:** Real alpha? Otabek has more alpha in his toe than you have in your entire scrawny body. 

The guy’s profile pic did look a little sad. He was flexing in front of a mirror, but there wasn’t much to flex. He looked proud of himself, though. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** doubt. He has to get a step stool just to reach his boyfriend’s face. Pathetic. 

**Platinumtr:** What’s pathetic is you trying to say you’re better than a professional athlete. 

Well, he hadn’t said that, just that he was more alpha. Whatever that meant. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** I could kick that midget across a football field. What’s such a hot omega doing with him anyway. He’s definitely not an alpha. 

Okay. Okay. This guy was obviously not worth anyone’s time. But, he couldn’t look away from the reply chain. Allah, this was why people got addicted to reality tv. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hard on Hadiya and Damira when they tried to get him to watch with them.

 **Platinumtr:** My dude, did you even bother looking him up? He IS an alpha and a professional athlete. He has three quad jumps so he could probably kill your weak skinny ass with one kick. 

Okay. Well… fair. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** There’s no way he’s an alpha. Look at him. 

Another Angel chimed in. Yuri’s fans really were rabid; preteens with nothing better to do. Prime entertainment, though.

 **Whortha:** Okay, since when can you tell someone’s secondary gender by looks alone? You look so scrawny, I bet you're a beta. 

Ouch for all betas, then. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** You can ALWAYS tell an alpha. And he’s definitely not an alpha. 

The Angels had probably decided that he wasn’t worth their time after all because the guy had commented again after no replies from anyone else. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** You guys are fucking idiots. I just looked him up you said he was an athlete, but this guys a fucking figure skater! What kind of pansy ass alpha wants to spin around in fucking sequins and tights??? You have obviously been lied to. 

And the stereotype persists. Otabek rolled his eyes. No self respecting alpha would ever be a figure skater. And then the Angles were back in the game. 

**Whortha:** Holy shit. I can’t figure out if you’re joking or if you’re actually that dumb. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** *your 

**Whortha** : Omg. Wow 

Otabek snickered. Couldn’t have said it better himself. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** Yeah jumping around in tights I bet he doesn’t even have a dick. 

Right. The most important thing about alpha anatomy. Dicks. 

**Panettect:** He definitely has more than you. 

Otabek tilted his head. Well, thanks to them for coming to his defence, but warning bells were starting to go off in his head. He breathed in deeply, the back of his neck itching like someone was reading over his shoulder.

 **PrandPridemobiov:** How would you know? 

**Panettect:** Oh believe me I know. 

There were more replies hidden and Otabek knew he shouldn’t tap through. He knew what they were going to talk about. He should just leave it there and continue to have a good day with Yuri. He tapped the button anyway. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** What you met him in person and sucked his dick or something? 

**Panettect:** Get the fuck out of here @ **PrandPridemobiov** he’s hung af

Allah, why were there so many likes on that one and even more replies? His entire face heated up. 

**PrandPridemobiov:** Horny bitches. Do you even have proof? 

**Panettect:** Check your DMs. 

Otabek winced. Fuck. Why the fuck - he cut himself off, grinding his teeth, and breathing in deeply through his nose. Fuck. For how long was he going to be reminded that he’d fucked up? Most of the links were gone, but of course people would have downloaded the picture. Fans. If he could even call them that. But shit. With his finger hovering over the back button, he glanced at the other comments. Why was he even doing this to himself? Fuck. Was it a guilty pleasure now, would he end up marathoning trash tv with his sister? He couldn’t even tell if his stomach was bubbling with excitement or dread. 

**Panettect:** No reply @ **PrandPridemobiov**

**Whortha** : hahah what a piece of shit. 

**Nsmilefill** : What a loser 

**Platinumtr:** Looks like he got that question answered. LOL 

Otabek rolled his eyes, something popping in his stomach. So, he definitely had been right in assuming that they had DM’ed the guy his nudes. But… but he couldn’t lie that there was something amusing about the guy not responding either. An over confident piece of shit like that would waste no time shouting out to the world that he was better, more… hung. Otabek snorted softly. Wow. He’d clearly run off to lick his wounds, unable to think of a suitable comeback. He almost hated the part of him that swelled with pride, but he couldn’t deny that it was funny. They guy was all talk until he actually had to face reality. Yeah, _more_ alpha his ass, cause if all an alpha was a big dick then Otabek was doing alright. He shook his head; what a bunch of fucking idiots. 

He went back to the comments, feeling a little warm bubble in his chest and the queasiness in his stomach slowly fade away. 

**Orcarren:** We love you Otabek. 

**GuitaristMercy:** I love it when a troll gets owned

 **Whortha:** Shouldn’t have tried to pick a fight. Dumbass 

**Kissezia:** This guy really thought he was better than Otabek? 

**Addreis:** Please, as if Yuri would ever leave Otabek for that piece of shit. 

He scrolled to the end of the chain; most of the comments now were just people saying how much they loved him, and dragging the troll. It was still amusing, but he was so glad that he’d put his account back to private.

Shaking his head, he tapped back to the actual picture and stared at it for a second. Yuri looked so happy with his arm slung around Otabek’s shoulders even if he was leaning a bit to press his temple to the side of his head. And well, Otabek thought he looked happy too. His stomach tightened again, but it wasn’t really a queasy feeling anymore. He liked the picture, eyes lingering on the small smile on his own face -

“What are you smiling about?”

He jumped a mile, locking his phone, with the back of his neck tingling like he’d be caught doing something wrong. Yuri was leaning over him, cheeks red, and sweat dotting his temples. 

“Oh, Uh,” he shrugged, watching as Yuri threw himself into the seat next to him. “Wasn’t smiling.”

“Yes you were. What’s up?” 

Otabek tilted his head sideways, glancing at his darkened phone screen. Yuri wasn’t going to scroll through all the comments. He’d probably only read the ones right on top, or previewed in his notifications. He’d never see it. But… Otabek huffed softly. He should talk about it. It had bothered him, so he should talk about it. “Someone made a gross comment on the picture you posted this morning-“

“What? What the fuck?” He reached into his pockets, but couldn’t find his phone. “Shit, I left my phone- lemme see it - wait.” He paused, gears visibly turning in his head before his expression hardened a split second later and he looked like he was about to start breathing fire. “Why the fuck are you laughing at it?” 

“Huh?” He handed Yuri his phone, “ It wasn’t about you.”

Still frowning, Yuri furiously scrolled through the comments. It took him nearly a minute, but he found it. “What the fuck… what the fuck? _What the actual fuck_?” He was snarling by the time he reached the end of the chain and looked up at Otabek, grinding his teeth. “Beka, are you… that guy was a piece of shit and those girls had no fucking right to-“

“It’s okay, Yura.” He shrugged, tugging his phone out of Yuri’s hands. “I’m okay.” 

“You’re okay…” 

“Yeah. I mean, I thought I’d be more bothered, but I dunno. I’m not.” Yuri was at a loss for words. He sat still with his mouth slightly open and a deep frown. Cute. “I dunno, _zhanym_. Maybe Viktor was right. I don’t have to be upset about it.” 

“O...Kay…” he clearly didn’t understand 

“I think it’s kinda funny.”

“ _What_?” 

“Yeah. That guy was acting all high and mighty, thought he was so much better than me just because I’m not tall-“

“He looked like a whimp anyway.” 

“Yeah. But don’t you think it’s funny, that he ran away after he realised that I have a bigger dick than him?” 

Yuri’s eyes went wide and he glanced around too see if anyone was within earshot. Otabek shook his head. “Seriously,” he whispered loudly. 

Otabek shrugged. “That girl obviously sent him one of my pictures and there was radio silence after that.” 

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now.” 

“What? You know that’s what happened. He was on about all that alpha shit and the only important thing to a guy like that is how big his dick is.”

Yuri blushed. “And you’re happy now cause yours is bigger? So very mature, Beka.” 

Otabek raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. “Well…” okay, if Yuri wanted to play that game, he’d play. “He said he’d show you what a real alpha is, doubt he could make you scream as loud as you did last night.” 

Yuri jumped out of his seat, his mouth dropping open, and he punched his shoulder so hard the bone shook. 

“Shut up!” He hissed loudly, looking around like a scared kitten. “Oh my god, Otabek!” 

He chuckled softly, grabbing Yuri’s wrist and pulling him down for a soft kiss. Yuri shook his head when they broke apart and pressed his fingertips to his bottom lip. 

“I hate you right now.” He straightened and glanced back to the ice. “But really though, are you okay?” 

He nodded. “Really. I’m okay. Yeah it’s still embarrassing as fuck that people are still sending around the pics. But Viktor was right.”

“Viktor is never fucking right.”

Except when he was; he didn’t have to _let_ it bother him. It was of course harder than it sounded, but he couldn’t lie that causing the guy to run off with his tail between his legs didn’t stroke his ego.

“I have to get back on the ice,” Yuri grumbled. “You sticking around or?”

“I’ll wait. Actually, I might get on once you’re done.” Because what was the point of coming to the rink and not even doing anything. Besides he needed to gauge how bad things would be when he got back to Almaty. 

Yuri’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” 

The good thing about afternoon practice was by the time they got done, the rink was mostly empty. Even Viktor had headed back home, and Yakov was dealing with some paperwork stuff in his office. So, when Otabek tightened the rental skates, the only one staring at him was Yuri. O Allah, they smelled so bad; he’d definitely have to burn his socks and bleach his feet when they got home. 

“Are you sure we should do this?” Yuri asked uneasily as he stepped onto the ice. 

Otabek raised an eyebrow. He didn’t shove his feet in disgusting rentals just to chicken out. “You forget I am a professional skater too, Yura.” 

Yuri huffed. “What if you fall?” 

He shrugged, tapping his toe pick against the surface a few times. “I’ve fallen many times before.” 

“That’s not what I meant, you idiot.” Yuri snapped, but Otabek stepped into a slow glide past him. 

Anam had been right, she always was. He’d missed this. He had missed being so confident and so in control of himself. He did a quick spin to turn around, taking a deep breath in through his nose and feeling his toes and fingertips tingle. He had thought that being back on the ice would have sucked, would have reminded him of how badly he had messed himself up. When he watched Yuri skate and the others compete he definitely felt that way, bitter acid at the back of his throat. But actually being on the ice - he shouldn’t have taken such a long break. Glancing back to Yuri, who was leaning against the sideboards, paused with his water bottle to his mouth as he scrolled through this phone. 

“Yura,” he shouted, “come skate with me!”

Yuri stared at him for a second, Otabek could actually see the excitement building in his eyes, but he was fighting it down. He set down his phone and water bottle before gliding over. Otabek caught him, with arms around his waist, gave him a soft peck on his cheek. 

Yuri smiled. “Stop it, I’m all sweaty.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“Don’t fucking lie.” 

“I don’t mind on your birthday.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. 

“Show me your routine again?” 

Grinning, Yuri grabbed his wrist and pulled him to the centre of the rink. He started slowly and Otabek copied his movements. It definitely showed that he hadn’t been exercising much these past months; keeping up with Yuri was more difficult than he cared to admit. Allah, he hoped Yuri couldn't see how hard he was breathing. His thighs were starting to burn, too, and he could feel a slight strain already building in his knee. Well, he deserved it, of course; he should have at least tried to get a few hours ice time a week. He’d been busy, but not _that_ busy. Shaking his head, he focused on copying Yuri until they were slowly twirling around each other, and he couldn’t help but copy Yuri’s wide smile as well. Yuri took his hands again, slotting their fingers and palms together, and forgoing his routine. His fingers were long and thin, cold, obviously, but his hands were so delicate almost small in comparison. Even as his heart was literally fighting to keep him alive, it skipped a few beats. 

“We should sign up for ice dance,” Otabek mused, pulling Yuri close with an arm around his waist. 

Yuri wrinkled his nose. “But all the cool lifts are in pairs. And heaven help your footwork; we’d come in dead last every competition.” 

He rolled his eyes, guiding them away from the rink edge. “It’s not all about winning.”

“And that’s why you lose so much.” He stuck out his tongue. 

Otabek gently shoved him away, scoffing when he bumped into the sideboard, and skated back to centre rink. He pivoted himself into a back scratch spin, unable to stop the soft chuckle at just how good it felt to be back on the ice. The sound of his blades against the ice was better than music he could compose, and the cold air the stinging his face was one of the most relieving yet exhilarating things he had ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in deeply; his lungs expanded in pure calm. Well, to be fair, he hadn’t been told to stop skating; he’d just hadn’t wanted to. Slowly, blinking his eyes open, he rolled his shoulders, and shook out the light burning in his thighs. His blades sliced against the ice as he skated in large circles to pick up some speed and he briefly considered running through one of his programs just for the hell of it. Why the fuck not; he could already hear the music in his head and shrugged one shoulder before dropping into an A spin - one of the first movements from his free skate. 

His breathing came easy, his mind cleared, and the sharp smell of the ice had this clean energy rushing through his body. His camel spin was perfect, if he could say so himself, and he substituted the double salchow, triple toe loop combination for a shotgun spin, and just skated through his triple axel. When the music in his head ended, he was breathing pretty hard, but his fingertips were tingling and his chest was warm. He could ignore the slight burning pull in his knee for now. He bent over, elbows to his knees, panting to catch his breath, but he could feel the smile on his lips. Really, though, why did he stop skating? 

He heard Yuri’s blades before a slight shadow hovered over him. “That’s pretty good for how little you’ve practiced.” He nudged his water bottle against Otabek’s cheek. Thanks, Yuri, how sweet.

He grabbed the bottle before standing back up and took a few sips from it as his heart slowly slowed back to normal. His breathing was terrible, though. “Again, I’m a professional skater. I know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Yuri laughed. “Just saying. I almost forgot you even left for a few seconds there.” 

He raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the bit of pride that formed itself into a grin.“I’m itching to get back to practice,” he admitted, guiding Yuri back to the stands. “I can’t wait for next season.”

Yuri nodded. “I can’t wait to kick your ass next season.” 

“Brave words, Plisetsky.” 

Yuri stuck out his tongue before placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad you came out today. I know it wasn’t for me or anything, but I was just glad to see you on the ice again.” 

Otabek nodded. “It felt good.”

“You looked good.” 

He grinned as Yuri helped him off the ice. He really did miss the exhausted giddy feeling that came along with a good practice. He brushed his hair away from his forehead; it was probably a mess by now, and the back of his shirt was stuck to his skin with sweat. And yeah, he couldn’t wait to start back; it was so ridiculous that it had taken him so long to realise it. 

Otabek’s last night in Saint Petersburg came quickly. They days flew now that he was actually getting out and doing things. Well, most of his day was still sitting around Lilia’s apartment with Potya, but he had been spending more time at the fitness centre, exploring the city a bit more, and followed Yuri to the rink when his knee didn’t hurt too badly. He’d found a few new lunch spots for Yuri and managed to find a closer place that sold edibles. If he hadn’t felt like shit when he first got here, he probably would know the city as well as he knew Almaty by now.

He was still completely exhausted some days, staying in bed until noon with heavy thoughts chasing themselves around in his head. Just the thought of trying to figure out a new therapy routine had his stomach sinking. There was always the what if of his knee not getting better, of having to give up skating because of it. The time to deal with it was drawing near and he woke up sweating at night more than once. 

Yuri had helped him clear out the drawer he’d been using and taken his clothes out of the closet. He’d been silent the whole time and Otabek could feel his sadness like a wet blanket over his head. It did really suck that he was leaving Yuri behind, that they’d have to go back to carving time out of their schedules just for a video chat, and he was going to miss him so damn much. But he had to go. 

He reached out to gently tug a lock of hair that had spilled over Yuri’s shoulder. 

“It’ll be summer soon,” he said, smoothing his thumb and forefinger against the golden silk. “Then you’ll be able to visit me in Almaty. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, staring at a small bruise on his ankle. 

“And it’ll be the off season so you’ll be able to do whatever you want.” 

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Are you guys gonna do a barbecue again?” 

He nodded, shuffling along the mat so he could sit next to Yuri and wrap an arm around his waist. Yuri laid his head against his chest. “Every summer. It’s tradition. The date changes though. I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” 

“I’m gonna eat so much of your mom’s lamb kebabs you’re going to have to roll me inside. God, my mouth is already watering.” 

Otabek chuckled. Yeah, the lamb kebabs were good. “I’ll tell her to make extra.” 

“And those seasoned bread rolls she did last time. I could eat like ten of those.”

He kissed his cheek. Yuri wasn’t even exaggerating; the sheer amount of food he could put away was incredible. He could probably eat more than him on a good day. 

“She finds out you like them and you’re on bread duty, _zhanym_.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

Otabek kissed his temple burying his nose in the baby hairs at his temple. Yuri did seem to like cooking, and his mom was always happy for a little extra help. He’d always found it weird; they had a fully staffed kitchen, yet his mom always insisted on making dinner herself. He hated cooking; it was always so messy. But Yuri liked it. And he smiled remembering the few times he’d caught him helping out his mom with dinner. They fell into silence, watching Otabek’s open suitcase. 

“I can’t believe it’s your last night here,” Yuri mumbled. “I’m going to miss you so much. I mean, I’m happy you’re going back and all, but… yeah. I don’t want you to go.” 

Otabek ran his palm up and down Yuri’s waist, pressing his lips to his temple. “I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me. This trip was probably the best thing I could have done for myself.” 

Yuri sighed softly. “I know; I’m glad you came.”

“Hey.” Otabek hooked a finger under his chin, guiding his face upwards. He pressed a soft kiss to the centre of his lips. “My last night doesn’t have to be sad.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “You are so fucking cheesy. God.” 

“I try.” 

He scooped Yuri up under his armpits and sat him on the edge of the bed, before following through with a deep kiss. Smirking into the kiss, Yuri wrapped his arms around Otabek’s neck. 

“Totally saw that coming,” he mumbled against Otabek’s cheek. “Horny bastard.” 

Otabek scoffed. “Just because you’re ace doesn’t mean you’re completely innocent, _Yura_.” 

Yuri paused for a second, pulling away slightly with his mouth agape and something calculating in his eyes. Otabek stared at him, all at once wondering if he’d done something wrong again. He cursed himself. Fuck Otabek, think before you speak- 

“No.” Yuri smiled so wide, Otabek swore he could see all his teeth. “Now get over here and knot me.” 

Otabek choked on his breath, staring wide-eyed at his boyfriend. Yuri had turned shy again, blushing up to his hairline as he bit his lip and he smiled, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Beautiful. For a millisecond he thought that he had misheard, but when Yuri wrapped his fingers around his biceps and slid further back onto the bed, urging him on, there was no way he could refuse a command like that. He crashed their mouths together, causing them both to tumble flat onto the bed. His heart was literally soaring as an intense heat spiked between his legs and in his stomach. Yuri wiggled, spreading his legs wide to hook his calves around Otabek’s hips and tangled his fingers in his hair. He could feel the forming hardness against his lower stomach as Yuri ground up into him. Yeah, definitely not innocent. Burying his nose against Yuri’s neck and nipping lightly at his scent gland, Otabek’s head started to spin. 

He breathed in deeply, briefly wondering how Yuri could smell both clean and aroused. His scent was so subtle most of the time; barely there unless Otabek presses his nose to his skin or hair, but it was always so refreshing and clean, like flowers or rain, with the slight underlying musky smell. Probably why he found him so damn attractive. He could only imagine what he would smell like if he was in heat, if his suppressants and birth control also suppressed his natural smell as well. He sealed his lips against the small bump, sucking and breathing in as deeply as he could. Yuri’s soft moan, had his dick throbbing and the hand playing with his hair tightened. He was yanking out a few strands when he pressed the flat of his tongue to the small bump and dragged the ball of his piercing against it. His breath shook with the next exhale and his chest heaved against Otabek’s. 

Reluctantly pulling away after one last kiss, Otabek stared down at his boyfriend, running his plans along thin, muscled sides and over the arch of his ribcage. His hair was loose, splayed out on the sheets and already terribly tangled. His face was red, and his eyes were wide, pupils blown. So damn beautiful. Otabek’s chest was too small for hot much heat his heart was beating through his veins and lungs. Yuri’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his blunt nails sent sparks along Otabek’s scalp. 

They didn’t have to say anything. Just a gentle pressure, as Yuri guided Otabek back down for a kiss. He raised his hips so Otabek could pull his shorts down his legs, then yanked Otabek’s shirt up his back, grazing his nails against skin. A tiny part at the back of his mind went back to the time on the couch; but Yuri clearly wanted it this time. Otabek’s chest swelled and he ran his hands up and down Yuri’s sides before palming delicately defined hard abs and tracing a line down the centre. 

Yuri’s mouth was hot, the kiss was deep and needy; pure silk against Otabek’s lips and tongue. It was almost as if he could feel how much Yuri didn’t want him to leave. Cupping the back of Yuri’s head with one hand, he deepened the kiss even more, nipping at his bottom lip. Yuri hung onto him, nails digging into his shoulders. Allah, he was going to miss doing this whenever he wanted, after a long day or at the start of one, or even at lunch. He pulled back slightly, letting his eyes shut as he massaged the back of Yuri’s head. Okay, Now was the time to think about missing him; not when he was literally squirming underneath him, cock hard and grinding against his stomach. 

Pressing his lips to the corner of his mouth, he reached between Yuri’s legs for his half-hard cock. 

“Beka, ah-” Yuri moaned, his hips immediately bucking up against Otabek’s hold. 

He wanted it. Otabek bit his bottom lip; his own cock literally pulsing in his pants. Yuri was practically writhing underneath him, mouth open, little pants and moans escaping with each pump of Otabek’s hand. He was so beautiful, t-shirt tangled around his chest and his hair spread out underneath him. Perfect, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Otabek loved him so much; he’d do anything for him, he’d never be able to repay for how much he’d helped, how much he’d inspired him. He’d never be able to show how much he meant to him. He could try; it would never be enough. 

Yuri raised a shaking hand, cupping Otabek’s jaw. He ran a thumb along his cheek, taking a shuddering breath through his nose. Otabek slowed his hand, teasing Yuri with long, smooth strokes. Yuri gasped, thighs trembling and digging his nails into Otabek’s shoulders.

“Beka,” he mumbled, breath hitching, as he stared directly into his eyes. His pupils were so blown there was barely any green. Otabek turned his head, kissing the centre of his palm. “Beka… ah…”

“What is it, my love?” He circled his thumb against the leaking head of his cock. Yuri sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut in pure pleasure. 

“Don’t stop.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he smiled, kissing down his palm to his wrist. 

“Good.” His fingers brushed the hair behind Otabek’s ear. A small moan escaped parted lips when Otabekt dragged his nail up the underside of his cock, had his eyes closing. “Never stop.”

So he didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for  
> \- sexual content


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for chapter warnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Sexual Content

It felt like hours, but Otabek honestly wasn’t keeping track of time. He was keeping track of how loud Yuri’s moans got, how much he started to tremble and claw at his back. Yuri hovered over his lap, fingers digging into Otabek’s shoulders, biting his lip as his breath came out in harsh pants. Otabek cupped his cheek, smoothing his thumb along the soft skin. Yuri’s eyes fluttered shut. 

“You okay?” Otabek whispered. 

Yuri nodded, breathing out deeply through his nose. He had said that he liked it, that it had felt good, but Otabek knew that he was still nervous about the initial pain. He was the one who had suggested that Yuri be on top this time, so he could control the depth and pace a bit better. But it was still going to hurt and, fuck, he wished it wouldn’t. 

Smoothing his palms across Yuri's back and shoulders, he waited patiently. He ignored his throbbing cock, looking up at Yuri’s flushed face and tangled hair. Allah, he was still so beautiful. Knowing it would still hurt a bit he had spent extra time, working him open and making sure he came to help him relax fully. Yuri had been almost jelly under him, quivering with pleasure, but now nervousness had made him tense up again. 

“That’s it, baby boy, deep breaths.” He squeezed his waist. “Relax.”

Yuri cracked open an eye, wrapping his fingers around Otabek’s wrists. “Yeah.” His voice was husky, raw from earlier. 

Then, it felt like Yuri was moving in slow motion; he reached behind himself, grasping Otabek’s swelling cock. Otabek let out a trembling breath through his teeth and his lip bled from how hard he bit it. Yuri shuffled lower down his lap, lining himself up and Otabek stopped breathing with the effort it took not to move. His skin felt like electricity and every motion had a current circling his stomach. His mouth was so dry and blood was thudding in his ears. But all he really needed to focus on was Yuri slowing inching down, until the head of his cock bumped against heated, slick skin. 

Grunting, Otabek’s hands tightened on Yuri’s waist and already he started to feel a tightness at the base of his cock. Allah, he was going to pop even before he got inside his boyfriend. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down and ease the building fire in his gut. 

Yuri had paused, eyes firmly shut, with the tip of Otabek’s cock pressed to his entrance. Okay, he was going to need a bit of help after all. He ran a palm up and down Yuri’s back, massaging the tense muscle. 

“Easy, love.” He mumbled. “Let’s get you down, before I actually start swelling, okay?” 

Yuri’s eyes flew open and his eyebrows shot upwards. “Why are you so embarrassing?” He mumbled, covering his face with his hand. 

Otabek chuckled softly. He really was so adorable. “Just saying. You sure you’re okay?” 

Yuri took a deep breath, leaning backwards ever so slightly. “Yeah… yeah.” He let his eyes fall shut again and bit his lip. The hand around Otabek’s cock tightened, and he slowly pushed him past his entrance. Otabek’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the smooth glide in, the slick tightness and unbelievable heat.

“Fuck,” they sighed in unison, then caught each other’s eye and started to chuckle. 

Yuri sank all the way down, still grinning as he took in several shaky breaths. Otabek, bit his lip as he felt him pulse around his cock. 

“Okay, that wasn’t so bad.” Yuri said, voice still shaking with soft chuckles. He rolled his hips, adjusting the way he sat and a soft moan escaped his throat. 

Otabek hissed, hips bucking up before he could stop. “We’ve done this before, Yura. Many times.” 

Yuri swatted his shoulder. “Yeah, but not like this.” 

Otabek leaned forward, pressing their lips together. “You’ve been on top before.” 

Yuri huffed, slowly rolling his hips again. “That’s not what I mean.” 

Smiling, Otabek nuzzled the side of Yuri’s neck again, breathing him in before sealing his mouth around his scent gland. Yuri was going to kill him, again, for the bruise that he was sure to leave. And yet, Yuri tilted his head in encouragement, little sounds of pleasure falling from his lips. Of course Otabek’s cock twitched and the tightness around him was almost unbearable. Yuri’s fingers tightened in his hair, back arching as Otabek gently bucked up into him. 

So, fucking beautiful. Otabek drew back just to stare at him, his head thrown backwards, mouth open in silent pleasure, and his hair cascading down his back in soft, gold tangles. He was slowly rocking back and forth in Otabek’s lap, walls convulsing around his cock. There was no way he was going to last long. Already, the tightness at the base of his cock was beginning to spread.

He smoothed his palms down Yuri’s sides stopping at the gentle curve of his waist. “You good, Yuriyim?”

Yuri hummed, staring down at him with half-lidded eyes. “Yeah.” 

He gently bucked his hips up again, unable to stop from groaning. Yuri gasped, muscles fluttering, and tightening even more. Otabek shut his eyes, resting his forehead to Yuri’s chest. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he breathed, guiding Yuri firmly down with the hands on his waist and keeping him fully seated. Yeah, he was definitely starting to swell. Yuri was absolutely convulsing around him, as if trying to pull him in deeper. The heat in his stomach tumbled lower, and everything down to his toes was buzzing. 

“Yeah.” 

Okay, so Yuri might have been kind of out of it at this point. He looked up, cupping Yuri’s cheek and guiding his head down. His eyes were glassy, nearly unfocused, like a chilled wine bottle. 

“Yura?” 

“Hmmm?”

“Let me know if you need to stop.” 

“Yeah.” 

Otabek chuckled, pulling him down for a soft kiss, that he enthusiastically returned, nipping at his lip and sucking him in so deeply, Otabek nearly forgot about everything else. The throbbing in his cock was impossible to ignore, though, and with shallow thrusts upwards came both added tightness and blissful relief. 

Yuri grew tighter around him, almost impossibly so, and the kiss became strained, Yuri’s mouth halting until he pulled away completely. He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut, and a deep frown across his face.

“Yura?” Otabek forced himself to stop moving. “Speak to me.” 

Yuri took a deep breath, hunching over until his forehead was pressed against Otabek’s collarbone. “Keep going,” he breathed. Allah, he wished that Yuri didn’t have to hurt for this. It wasn’t fair that he got nothing but pleasure while Yuri was in pain. 

He cupped the back of his head, gently massaging his scalp, and with the other hand reached between them for Yuri’s cock. Yuri jolted, gasping a sweltering hot breath against Otabek’s chest. He was still leaking, thankfully, cock hard against his stomach. He fit perfectly in Otabek’s palm. 

“Focus on this, love.” He breathed into Yuri’s ear rolling his thumb across the head of his cock. Yuri’s moan came with his inner walls contracting. Otabek had to close his eyes, as his breath escaped in a deep, slow breath. Focus on Yuri, he told himself, it was his job to make this good for him too. 

He pushed up, deep into Yuri and stilled, biting his lip at how tight he was. But he forced most of his attention to his hand, to bringing Yuri right to the edge once more. Yuri curled over, arms tight around Otabek, fingers tugging at his hair and thighs trembling. His walls contracted almost rhythmically even as he knew the sting from the stretch was getting worse by the second. His own cock was pulsing, he could feel the rapid swelling, but Yuri was jerking into his hand with each stroke and sweet, soft moans fell from his parted lips. Allah, if only this moment would last forever. The edges of his vision began to curl up with white and the familiar tingling fired off over every inch of his body. No, he wasn’t going to last longer, and Yuri needed to finish before he popped. So, he changed his grip causing Yuri to shudder and let out a strangled moan and his walls spasmed. 

Almost there too. Pausing just to rearrange Yuri’s legs around him, he pulled out slightly, his forming knot didn’t let him get too far, but Yuri's entire body jolted and he cried out, voice high and muddled. So beautiful. He tightened his fingers around his cock as he pushed back in. Yuri came suddenly, shuddering and moaning with his head thrown back and nails digging into Otabek’s shoulders. His walls clamped down, spasming slick heat around Otabek’s cock, pulling so tight and deep and it was all he needed. Knotting always felt like a small explosion; everything was so tight and hot, even his toes were curled, and his stomach was twisted so tight he thought he was going to implode. Then everything just pushed outward, his ears started to ring, his entire body was buzzing with white hot pleasure, and Yuri was so hot and wet around him, literally milking him for all he was worth. Even his vision went blank for a second, each and every hair follicle was singing. And he might have slammed his head against the headboard, he didn’t feel it, just the pulsing tightness around his cock that seemed to draw every last bit of energy out of him. 

When he finally forced his eyes open, his vision was still blurry, but Yuri was slumped against his chest, rubbing his back with slow, soothing circles. He was muttering something, but Otabek could barely hear through the rushing blood in his ears.

“You okay, Yura?” He asked, after he wasn’t fighting for oxygen anymore. Allah, it was hard to speak. And breathe. And blink for that matter. He let his eyes fall shut again. 

Yuri pressed his lips to the side of his neck, still rubbing circles against his back. Allah, that felt good too. “Mmmhmmm. You… you feel so good. So full.” 

He chuckled, somehow mustering enough willpower to stroke Yuri’s hair. His cock weakly twitched, and Yuri rolled his hips ever so slightly. They both sighed in pleasure. Otabek’s brain was filled with bees and he swore he was sinking into the mattress; just stroking Yuri’s hair was too much and he let his hands fall to his waist. Allah, this was just so perfect, so good. 

“Beka? You falling asleep?” Yuri’s voice was soft. 

“Yeah… sorry.” 

He giggled softly, kneading Otabek’s shoulders. “It’s okay, you blob.” 

A soft peck graced his lips before Yuri was snuggling up under his chin like a contortionist. And he honestly wanted to cuddle, to spend as much time basking in the afterglow, or at least until his knot went down, but staying awake was so hard. And everything was just so nice and relaxed and he didn’t have a single worry right now, just his beautiful boyfriend literally joined to him. He kissed the top of Yuri’s head before giving in. 

Yuri breathed hot against his neck. “I love you, God. So much.”

He cracked an eye open, getting a hand up to cup Yuri’s jaw and raise his head for a kiss. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled, when they broke apart and stared into Yuri’s sparkling, green eyes. “You have no idea how much.”

He really would never know how much Otabek loved him, there way no way he could even begin to say it. But this, right now was perfection. He didn’t have to worry about his messed up mind, or his knee and tanking career. It was just him and Yuri, and that was all he needed. 

  
  


“You really should be resting,” Yuuri commented as Yuri paused to take a drink of water. “You’ll burn out by the time you get to Luxembourg.” His voice echoed across the ice , but was still almost drowned out by the sound of clacking hockey sticks and children yelling. The rink had been mostly empty, just the junior hockey team practicing some drills, but now it was late enough for a small crowd to have formed. 

“I won’t,” Yuri spat. “And fuck you and your husband for making me do this stupid step sequence!”

Yuuri sighed heavily as Yuri took off again circling tightly around the centre of the rink before transitioning gracefully into a scratch spin. 

“He’s not going to rest,” Otabek mumbled, rubbing some feeling back into his wrist. Icing it helped, but the cold pinpricks made him wonder if it was actually worth it. “He’s too stressed out.” 

Yuuri wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. I just… he really has nothing to worry about with that step sequence. He’s way too hard on himself.” 

Otabek nodded and leaned back against the sideboard, resting his elbows on the edge of the ledge. “He lives with Lilia.” 

“True.” 

They were silent as they watched Yuri stab his toe pick into the ice and scream out a string of curses, startling a hockey player that was within ear shot.

“You’re going back to Almaty this evening, right?” Yuuri asked softly. 

Otabek hesitated. He knew that Yuri and Yuuri were really close and of course Yuri would have told him everything as much as he liked to talk. “Yes.” 

“How’re you feeling about it?” 

He shrugged. “I need to get back on the ice.” 

“Okay, and your coaches…”

“I want to be back by next season. It’ll be a lot of work… a lot of therapy.” 

Yuuri nodded. “How’s the wrist?” 

Otabek glanced down to his right hand. It was red from the ice but it didn’t hurt to move any more. “I’m okay.” He sighed, Yuuri clearly wasn’t a talkative person but didn’t want to stand in silence either, and without Yuri as a buffer it was going to be a long, awkward session. “I’m more worried about _him_.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Yura. I think that’s why he’s on edge tonight.” 

“I don’t…” 

“I fell. He’s worried I hurt myself and I’m leaving later so he can’t check in.” 

“Oh. Yeah,” Yuuri shook his head. “He does have that protective streak, doesn’t he?” 

“A terrible one.” 

With a small smile, Yuuri turned towards him. “We were walking home from yoga I think last month and some guys started to follow us and cat-call, they were pretty big too, not going to lie I was very uncomfortable.” Otabek raised an eyebrow, why hadn’t Yuri told him about this? “I suggested we take a different route home so we could lose them, but then Yuri turns around curses them out. He might have punched them if they hadn’t backed down out of shock.” 

“He would have punched them. No question.” Otabek scoffed, okay, that’s why. It clearly hadn’t been a big deal to him. 

Yuuri sighed through his nose and shook his head. “I know he’ll start a fight at the drop of a hat. But it was kinda sweet of him. When he was done yelling he dragged me off and _held my hand_.” 

“Oh, now that’s serious.” He couldn't stop the small smile. 

“Yeah. I was worried for a second, but then he called me an idiot, so I knew he was okay.” 

Otabek chuckled. Yeah, that was Yura. Said boy stepped out of a spin and yelled a curse loud enough to shatter the windows. 

“The more he insults you the more he likes you.” 

Otabek nodded in agreement, eyes on Yuri as he tried the step sequence again. He’d been at it for almost two hours now, Otabek knew he would have called it a day, probably gone to the gym or worked on a mix before trying again in the evening. Yuri would go until - 

He slammed into the ice, legs splaying in the air like an upturned bug. Otabek’s stomach leapt into his mouth and he dashed off, blades grinding against the ice. Yuuri was a millisecond behind him. 

“Yuri!” He dove to the ice next to him, but he was already getting back to his feet, cursing under his breath. The tight dri-fit shirt just accentuated how hard he was breathing and Otabek could feel the tension in his muscles just by looking. He slung Yuri’s arm over his shoulders and helped him up. 

“I’m fine,” Yuri grumbled, wiping a few beads of sweat off his forehead with his hand and pushing away from Otabek. 

“I think that’s a sign,” Yuuri said patting his shoulder. “We should call it a day.” Yuri ground his teeth, jaw visibly clenching. Yuuri held up his hands to placate him and skated backwards to the rink exit. “I’m just saying, your boyfriend is leaving today, don’t you want to spend his last hours doing something fun?”

“You make it sound like I'm dying,” Otabek grumbled, guiding Yuri to follow. 

Yuri scoffed, speeding up ahead of both of them. “Fine,” he called over his shoulder. 

Yuuri left them in the locker room. Otabek stood, leaning against one of the lockers by the door watching Yuri wipe off his skates. 

“He’s right you know,” Otabek said. “You have nothing to worry about. You nailed that step sequence like more than half the time.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Half isn’t good enough.” 

“You’re way too hard on yourself.” 

“Oh?” He folded the cloth he’d been using to wipe his skates and shoved into his bag. “Hello Mr. pot, my name’s kettle-”

Otabek rolled his eyes. “I’m nowhere near as bad as you.” 

“How’s your wrist?” 

“Shut up.” Okay, fine he couldn’t deny that one. He’d definitely pushed too hard that morning. Allah, he needed to get back into shape, such a short practice shouldn’t have had him so beat. His thighs were still throbbing, and there was a slight tremor when he walked. He hadn’t felt this way in ages. 

Giggling at his victory, Yuri stood up and bounced over to place a soft kiss to Otabek’s cheek. “Let’s get something to eat, I’m starving.”

“Tell me something new.” 

Yuri punched him, and they left the locker room, slung over each other and smiling like idiots. 

If his last week in Saint Petersburg had flown by, then his last day felt like seconds. Viktor and Yuuri drove them to the airport and Yuri was disturbingly quiet for the entire drive. Even as Otabek checked in and dropped off his suitcase. He paused before the queue for the security check and turned to Yuri. The wind had blown in his hair into a mess and he hadn’t bothered to fix it, pouting into his loosened scarf, and hands shoved into the pockets of his unbuttoned coat. 

“I’m only a phone call away, Yuriyim.” Otabek said, pulling Yuri into a tight hug. Yuri slumped against him pressing his forehead to Otabek’s shoulder. He buried his face in Otabek’s coat, the tip of his nose was like an ice block. 

“Yeah.”

Otabek squeezed his waist. “Thank you so much.”

“Huh?” Yuri straightened. 

Otabek reached up, cupping Yuri’s jaw and smoothing his thumb along his cheekbone. “When I got here, I wasn’t in the greatest shape mentally-”

“Well yeah, you were dealing with so much shit before.”

Otabek scoffed. “I feel so much better now, and it’s mostly thanks to you.” 

Yuri turned red, eyes widening. “I didn’t really do anything.” 

Otabek shook his head, guiding him down for a quick kiss. “You did so much.”

Yuri sighed deeply, his arms tightening around Otabek’s waist. “It’s going to be so weird not having you around anymore. The apartment is going to be so boring now.”

“Good thing you’re about to get really busy soon.”

“Yeah, I guess. I just don’t want to go back to this long distance shit.”

“You’re coming to Alamty this summer. It’s only a few months away.”

Yuri smiled. “You don’t know how much I’m looking forward to that.” 

Otabek smoothed his hair from his forehead before stretching up to place a quick kiss to his nose. “I’ll call as soon as I land.” 

Yuri’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly and his smile turned strained. “You fucking better. Or we’re breaking up.”

Chuckling, Otabek wrapped his arms around him once more and squeezed. “I love you, Yuriyim. Thanks for letting me stay with you.” 

Yuri nodded, ducking his head for a quick kiss. “Love you too, Beka.” He sighed. “Now go before you miss your flight.”

“Yeah.” He pecked him again before pulling away and taking a small step back. “Bye.”

Yuri shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping back as well. “Bye.”

Otabek’s stomach was gurgling on the way to the security check, and his throat was tight. He looked over his shoulder; Yuri was still there and gave a small wave. Otabek took a deep breath. He had needed this month. He had needed to relax and take his mind off of everything, definitely needed to get away from Almaty. Yuri had been his escape. But now it was time to get back to reality. He turned back around after waving back at Yuri. And, yeah, he was ready to face whatever was next.


	9. Chapter 9

“Remember, we’re taking things easy today, Beka.” Tair, said clapping a hand to Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek rolled his eyes. “I mean it, kid. It’s your first day back.” 

He nodded, stretching an arm across his chest. “What do you want me to do?” 

Tair took him through some novice drills to get him warm, and Otabek tried his hardest to hide the fact that he was breathing hard just after the warmup, but he knew Tair could see how out of shape he was. There was pity in his smile and it caused Otabek’s spine to itch. He made him do a few edge change drills, some upright spins, and a very basic step sequence to see what he was working with. And Otabek tried his best, he really did, but Tair didn’t seem too happy. Fuck. 

“I’m not gonna lie, Beka,” he told him after calling a break. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

“I know.” The words were actually bitter on his tongue. He shook his head, staring at the ice under his blades. 

“You’ve been favouring your right leg all morning; is your knee hurting?” 

Otabek ground his teeth, and screwed his eyes shut for a moment. “Not more than usual.” 

“You were doing your stretches while you were in Saint Petersburg, I hope.” 

Not as much as he should have. “Not… every day.” 

Tair sighed. “You need to do them every day.” 

Yeah, well that was hard when he couldn’t even convince himself to get out of bed sometimes. “I looked that bad out there?” 

Tair hummed. “Not terrible. Not as bad as you’re picturing.” 

Otabek rubbed his forehead, yeah there was a lot of work to do. 

“But we need to sort out your knee before we decide what’s happening next season. I don’t want you permanently injuring yourself just to get back up to speed okay? We have time, so we’ll take it slow.” 

No, fuck. Otabek’s stomach gurgled and tightened. He’d been out for literally all of last season, how the fuck was he supposed to take it slow. He ground his teeth, setting his water bottle down on the ledge a little harder than he intended. 

Tair frowned, lips pursing slightly. “Beka. You are doing your best. I know you are, so stop being so hard on yourself.” 

He shook his head, pushing off from the wall and skating away before Tair could say anything else. 

“I’m going to run through my free skate.” 

Tair’s face was a cross between disappointment and interest. But he didn’t stop him. Yeah, doing his best, right. If this was his best, then he might as well quit. Yeah, fuck. That wasn’t happening. 

He was panting when he finished, it was a fight to breathe, and he hunched over elbows to his knees. He had skated through all of his jumps even ignored some of the more difficult spins as well but, fuck he was out of shape. And not to mention his knee was already burning. 

Tair came up to him and he recognised Gennadiy’s skates. He must have come in during the routine. 

“Well, colour me impressed, Beka.” Gennadiy’s booming laugh echoed around the rink. “Have you been practicing behind our backs?” 

“Just a few times in Saint Petersburg. Nothing much.” 

Gennadiy grinned, showing off a single gold tooth. Otabek still couldn’t decide if it was cool or trashy. “Yuri kept you in line then?” 

Otabek scoffed; he had tried. 

At his physio session later, Otabek was given a new set of stretches for his knee. After practice it was burning, and just walking was a bit difficult. But what did he expect after spending so much time not doing anything. Like he was trying to sabotage his own career. 

“Well, there’s still a bit of swelling, but you said it doesn’t hurt as badly now?”

Otabek nodded, breathing in deeply. The second someone told him to sit still, it became the hardest thing in life. Was he breathing too hard? There was an itch on his thigh, suddenly he had to adjust his shirt, and the way he was sitting on the examination bench was uncomfortable. 

“And you’ve been doing your stretches and exercises daily?”

He tugged at the rolled up hem of his basketball shorts. “I try. Uh not really… daily. It only really hurts after I use it too much anyway.”

Yerik nodded, pulling out a notepad. “Okay, well I still want you to stay away from the treadmill. You know the drill; if you have to do cardio, use the elliptical. Keep the brace on when you can. I don’t want you jumping yet, and let’s try to keep the single leg spins to a minimum for now. Let me know how you feel after your session tomorrow and then we can talk about easing you back into some spins.” 

Otabek nodded again, his lungs filling with relief. He was actually looking forward to meeting Tair for their one-on-one session tomorrow. He bit back a grin, watching as Yerik scribbled something down on the notepad and handed it to him.

“If the swelling gets any worse than what it is now, I want you to take this.” He pointed with his pen. “Two tablets. And if the pain gets too much, I’ve prescribed your normal painkillers.”

“Okay.” He hopped off the table, gingerly bending and straightening his knee. 

Yerik smiled. “And, Beka, ice it tonight, and get some rest.”

Iska and Roza were already settled in his room when he got home that night. Hiding the limp was next to impossible. Iska’s eyes narrowed as Otabek speed-walked to his bathroom; he didn’t bother with a greeting. He really should put a lock on his bedroom door. Or at least tell his mom to give him warning.

He came back out in a towel, thankfully the hot water had helped and his knee didn’t scream with every step. 

“Rough practice?” Iska asked dryly. 

Otabek shrugged. “I’m out of shape.” 

Roza snorted. “How? You’re like a walking statue.” 

Otabek pulled on a pair of boxers before circling back to the bathroom to hang up his towel. “I’ve lost so much muscle.” 

“Doesn’t look like that to me.” 

“Well believe me when I say it.” He sat down on the edge of his bed. 

“Anyway, how are you holding up?” Iska wheeled the desk chair around the bookshelf to stare him down. 

“I’m… okay.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Well, more or less I mean.” 

“Go on.” 

“Practice was kinda shit. I have so much work to do.” They both nodded. Otabek swallowed. “I dunno, I feel like I shouldn’t have let myself take so much time off. I fucked up-” 

“Beka, you were fucking depressed.”

“That’s not an excuse-”

“Yes, it is. Depression is messed up, cut yourself some slack.”

Roza rubbed his shoulder. “He’s, right. You had a lot to deal with, and frankly, you handled it pretty well.” 

He snorted. “I ran away for a month. I haven’t _competed_ in five months.” 

“Iska hasn’t been to the gym in five _years_.”

“Not true. But she has a point, Beka. You’ll get back into shape, and you’ll compete again. So, like, just relax.”

Otabek huffed. If only it was that easy. “Get me a shirt.” 

Iska rolled his eyes but got one from his closet anyway. He tossed it at Otabek’s head, but he caught it before it could hit. 

“And you think you’ll be ready to go back to competing?” Otabek pulled the shirt over his head, holding the collar wide so he wouldn’t knock off his glasses. “Like mentally.” 

Right. Mentally. “Cause of the pictures.” He flopped backwards on the bed, closing his eyes and taking his glasses off anyway. “I…” Roza ran her fingers through his hair, gently lifting his head onto her lap. It felt good; he gave her a weak smile. “I think so. Once you get over the fact that the entire world has seen you naked, then it’s not so bad.”

“Beka…” Roza admonished.

He sighed. “No. I talked to someone who had nudes leaked a while back. He gave me some solid advice.”

“Advice?” Iska ventured. 

“Yeah. It’s still embarrassing as fuck, and I don’t really want to talk about it. But they’re out there and I have to accept it and move on. I’m not gonna hang myself up over it anymore.”

“Okay.” 

Roza continued her head massage. “Good. we’re glad you’re back. In more ways than one.” 

He scoffed again. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, some of the day’s tension releasing with the exhale. “And thanks. For checking up. I don’t feel as shitty as before but I’m…not uh… fully better.”

“Better?” 

“I could barely get myself out of bed yesterday.” His first full day back home, and all he couldn’t find the energy to leave his room. If his mom hadn’t come up to coax him to have lunch with her he wouldn’t have even showered. “But, I think I’m getting there.” He’d felt a lot better this morning, even picking up on the first ring when Tair had called. 

There was a short, light pause and Otabek swore he was going to fall asleep from Roza’s massage.

“And how was Yuri?” Roza asked. 

He felt himself smile. “Yuri was great.” So great. “He got first place for his short program yesterday. ‘Coupe du Printemps’ in Luxembourg. The free skate is tomorrow, but he has nothing to worry about.” 

“When’s he coming here?”

“Summer. In time for the family barbecue.” 

“We’ll have to plan something.”

“For sure.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling. It had only been two days but he already missed him terribly. Sleeping alone in his bed was a little harder than he would have liked to admit. 

It was almost three weeks before both of Otabek and Yuri’s schedules lined up for a video call longer than ten minutes. Otabek was hitting the gym as hard as he could, which often meant late nights, and long baths afterwards. And Yuri was competing at Worlds’, so his free time was basically zero. The time difference made it worse; Otabek was exhausted at the end of each day and if his mom didn’t call a family dinner, he might have enough energy to work on some mixes before passing out, but then having to wait for Yuri to get back home and settle down would take him into the late hours of the night. It felt like torture. But they had finally found time.

Yuri sat awkwardly in front of his computer, trying not to look suspicious and failing terribly. He was at his desk at Viktor and Yuri’s place for one. Yuri had only ever used a desk before to do homework, and even then it was a rare occurrence. He lived on his bed. If he didn’t have to move from it he wouldn’t. Raising an eyebrow, Otabek tilted his head and sighed heavily. 

“What did you do?” he asked in lieu of a greeting. 

Yuri’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “How? I… I didn’t do anything! Why would… what makes you say that?”

Otabek chuckled, watching Yuri struggle not to move around too much. His left arm was twitching wildly, but he was keeping his right unnaturally still. He was a terrible liar elsewise, though. His emotions were always on display, from the wide eyes lined with frustration and a bit of pain, the tenseness in his jaw, to the unnatural stiffness in his shoulders and back. “Because I know you, Yura. What happened.” 

Yuri folded forward, slumping against his keyboard in a blob of golden hair. He groaned loudly. “I hate you. I sprained my wrist today.” He held up his arm wrapped in a bright blue brace. “It was bad enough I needed an X-ray. The doctor said it’s gonna take three months to get better.” Oh shit. 

“Fuck, Yura-”

“I know. I stepped out of my landing. Fucking triple flip, and I dunno, I just fell.”

Well fuck. “It could have happened to anyone-”

“I know.” He sat back up and took a deep breath. “Yakov won’t let me do anything more than a double, so that means the rest of the season’s going to be shit.”

At least Worlds was over with. Yuri had gotten gold, even after a short bout of controversy about the judges favouring him and purposefully scoring him higher. Yuri had been pissed, Yakov had been pissed and Otabek swore that the cameras had caught Lilia breathing smoke. Yuri was a crowd favourite; he had way too many fans and he was a damn good skater. Otabek could see why people would think that he was being scored easy, but the fact that they had tried to discount all his hard work was bullshit. He'd been pissed too. But from now on it was smaller competitions, without nearly as much hype as Worlds.

“You’re still going to compete? Is that a good idea?” 

“It’s not like I skate on my arms, dumbass.” Otabek rolled his eyes. “And what else am I supposed to do?” He scoffed. “Lilia’s going to kill me. She doesn’t even know yet and the doctor said I have to be careful dancing, and if I get the part, rehearsal’s gonna be difficult.”

“Wait. Rehearsal?” Otabek blinked, everything literally screeching to a halt. Holy shit, how could he be this dumb? “You’re doing her show again?”

Yuri’s eyes went wide. “Fuck.”

Otabek’s stomach tightened. “Why didn’t you tell me? When were auditions?” 

He shrugged. “Because you have enough to worry about already. You didn’t need my drama on top of it.”

Otabek wanted to get mad, his stomach was already burning. But Yuri’s words were like a slap to the face. Yuri should have slapped him; knocked some sense into him. “I… I made you think that?”

“Huh?” 

He laughed bitterly. “I’m a selfish asshole aren’t I?” 

“No, Beka. You were depressed. Are depressed.” 

“So that training camp while I was there, was really for the audition?” Yuri nodded. “And that’s why your ballerina friends were in town.” He nodded again. He really should have caught on. 

“Beka, please don’t get mad-”

“I’m not mad.” He was, but at himself. Yuri didn’t deserve his anger. He took a deep breath through his nose. He needed to be a better boyfriend. Fuck depression, he shouldn’t let it hurt Yuri any more. “Tell me everything.” 

“Huh?”

“You could at least tell me about it now. The secret’s out Plisetsky, might as well tell me the whole story.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I think it went… well. I’m glad I didn’t try out for a lead this time, so there’s not as much pressure. I dunno the whole audition just felt more laid back. And I don’t think I messed up as bad, well I fucked up the first assemblé - Lilia was livid, but she told me I did okay afterwards. And Katsudon and Viktor made a big deal out of it as usual. I’m not complaining, though, he went all out and made actual katsudon and okyakodon. I ate so much tonight, there’s no way I’m doing a single shit tomorrow.” 

“Wait, auditions were today?” 

Yuri looked away. “...yeah.” 

“Before you broke your wrist I fucking hope!”

Yuri smiled, he tried to look pissed, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “Idiot. The audition was at two, then I went to the rink straight afterwards. Was a dumb fucking idea.” He huffed, looking away and Otabek swore his eyes suddenly looked wet. Fuck. 

“It could have happened to anyone,” he repeated. 

“Yeah.” He answered glumly. And Otabek knew how much he’d been beating himself up over falling. He had two more competitions - that he really should sit out - and a ballet show to prepare for. Of course he was beating himself up. 

Otabek swallowed. He couldn’t do anything to help physically, but he could get Yuri thinking about something different. “What’s the show about this time?” 

He perked up slightly, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his neck. “We’re doing ‘The Sleeping Beauty’, there’s a minor fairie role that Lilia said I’d be good at and if Dani and Jelena get other fairy parts we’d have all of the same pieces, so we’d be rehearsing a lot more together. And it’d just be more fun overall.” He paused long enough to take a deep breath. “Stella’s in it too, I heard. She’s going for the the lilac fairie, that’s like the main part. And we’d end up having a few pieces together too - well we did have like one dance in ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, but our characters barely had to interact. I had to dance with that asshole, Prokher.” He paused for a second, rocking on the back legs of his chair. 

“When do you find out who gets what part?”

“April third.” He shook his head, hair flying around his face. “I definitely didn’t want to be a lead this time though. Like it was cool and all, but I don’t know there was so much pressure. Like if I messed up the entire show would be ruined for so many people. If you mess up on the ice it’s just you, or your partner, not an entire fucking dance troupe. It was fun, but I want this time to be easier. Like, I’d rather see how actual dancers handle it. Like, if I was in an actual ballet troupe I’d have to work my way up to a soloist. I would have never gotten Puck in a regular performance; Lilia was crazy casting me.” He shook his head again, standing and bringing his laptop over to the bed.

“God, I’m actually going to dance with Stella this time. Except now I’m so tall, fuck! Holy shit, what if I get cast in a male role. I wouldn’t have to do pointe, I might have to do _lifts_. I didn’t think about that. Beka, I can’t lift anyone. What if I drop them?” 

Otabek hid a smile behind his palm, propping himself up against his desk with an elbow. Yuri was gearing up to go into chatterbox mode. He watched his eyes sparkle and he grinned as he spoke, words coming quick and excitedly. Otabek honestly didn’t understand that much about ballet, Yuri could have been making everything up and he wouldn’t be able to tell. But the grey bubble that had formed in his chest was slowly getting smaller, and the self-loathing that had been pinching the back of his mind was disappearing as well. Oh Allah, how he loved this boy. 

Yuri was curled up like a cat on his pillow by the time Katsudon came in to tell him to lower his voice a bit because Viktor was going to bed. Otabek hadn’t realised it was even that late, but Yuri looked guiltily at the screen. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“It’s fine.” He had to physically fight down a yawn. “You know I love hearing you speak.” 

“Oh my god-“

“I miss you.” 

Yuri bit his lip. “I miss you too. It’s not as nice coming home to an empty apartment.” 

He smiled. “At least it’s almost summer. When’s the show?”

Yuri grinned as he started back up again. 

It took two months of drills and conditioning for Otabek to feel like he was making any headway. Yerik still hadn’t cleared him for jumping, but with how sore he was after each practice, it was probably for the best. Especially since his knee had gone from a dull throb and occasional sharp twinge to a pulling burn after practice. It wasn’t good. Ice helped. Painkillers too. Yerik had gone back to electrotherapy and that gave him days of relief per session. But the pain always came back. 

Gliding around the rink to cool down, Otabek tried to hide just how badly his knee was hurting. He couldn’t keep from grimacing as he turned. 

“Beka,” Tair waved him over to the stands. “Cool down with some stretches.” 

He sighed through his nose, but went to join his coach in the stands. 

“It’s hurting again, isn’t it?” Tair asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

“Yeah.” 

“How badly?” 

Otabek shrugged. “Normal amount. It kinda burns when I bend it.” 

Tair hissed, closing his eyes for a few seconds. “We’re going to have a chat with Yerik when you finish stretching.” 

Otabek scoffed bitterly. “It’s not going to be about getting more physio is it?” 

Tair raised an eyebrow. “Any more physio and you won’t have time to even skate. But we do need to solve this Beka. And if nothing has helped so far we need some new options.” 

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, his stomach tightening in waves. Fuck, he already knew the meeting wasn’t going to go well. 

Yerik looked glum when Tair asked about alternative methods to keep the pain away. 

“We can’t keep medicating him,” he grumbled. “That last only covering up the problem. It’s been two months and there has been no improvement. And honestly, I don’t feel comfortable having him train like this.”

Yerik nodded then turned to Otabek. “Okay, so what we do know is that it’s jumper's knee. And in the past treatment and rest has worked.” Otabek nodded. “But now you’re in pain-“ 

“I wouldn’t word it like that-“ 

Yerik cut him off. “You’re in pain both during and after exercising. On a scale of one to ten how would you rate it after exercising?” 

“I dunno. Like a seven.” 

Tair swore under his breath. 

“It’s not that bad…” 

“I want you in no pain at all, Beka.” 

“You said the electro therapy helped.” 

“For a few days at most. It comes back gradually.” 

Yerik nodded. “I want you to go in for a CT scan. If treatment isn’t working we might be dealing with something worse than we know.” He sat down at his desk and began rifling through his drawers. “We’ll need to get you down to the clinic as soon as we can.” 

“A CT scan?” Well shit. Was it really that bad? 

Tair rubbed his shoulder, his hand oddly warm. 

“Nothing to be scared about. The worst part is the waiting room.” 

He sighed. “Yeah.” 

Otabek knew he should talk to his mom about this, his dad at least. Yuri too and maybe Kerim. But a week passed and when Yerik called to see if he could make an appointment on Tuesday morning he hadn’t told anyone a thing. 

Yet, his mother caught him during breakfast. 

“Where are you off to today? I thought it was a rest day.”

He looked into his mug of tea, hunching over the kitchen island. His mom had come in, shocked to see him awake on his off day. “It is,” he sighed, “listening to her pull out a few things from the fridge. “I have… something to do.” He paused. Fuck it, he should tell her. If she found out from Tair or Gennadiy he would never hear the end of it. And besides… he had gotten up feeling like shit. His stomach was one giant knot and his head was spinning. He took a sip of tea, but that did nothing to help.“I have an appointment at the clinic… for a CT scan.”

“Otabek Altin…” she gasped, and when he looked up she was staring at him with her hands on her hips. “Oi _zhyndy_ , when didn’t you tell me? I would have come with you.” 

“Ma, I’m twenty-two. You don’t have to come to the doctor with me.” A part of him wished she would. But Yerik was going to be there and so was Tair, and if they told him that he needed surgery then that was that. 

She sighed softly, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead. “You’ll always be my little boy.” 

“I’m not little either.” 

She scoffed. “I can see that.” Her hand was warm against his cheek. Soft, except for the smooth gold of her wedding ring. “This is for your knee?”

He nodded. “Physio isn’t helping like it should. Yerik wants to know why. And I want to compete again.”

“You’ve had a hard year, _zhanym_ , the rest is good for you.”

He shook his head. “I’ve had enough rest, Ma. I’m going to forget how to skate at this rate.”

She flicked the side of his head.”As long as you’re not pushing yourself too hard. I believe that’s how this whole knee injury started in the first place.”

“I just have bad genetics.”

“Oh, do you?” 

He grinned, draining the last of his tea and hopped off the stool, wincing as his knee flared. He placed a light kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Ma.” 

She pulled him into a tight hug. “Call me when you’re finished. Do you need someone to pick you up?”

He spun the keys to his bike around his index finger. “I’ve got it covered.” And it was amazing that after that short conversation he really felt like he did. 

  
  


Yerik was silent as he looked at the scans. Otabek had no clue what he was even seeing, just a mass of lines and grey blobs. Both Tair and Gennadiy were unnervingly quiet next to him as well. The whole thing had taken less than two hours, Yerik was right that the waiting was the worse part. But right now, watching him study the scans was nearly painful. 

When Yerik shook his head, Otabek’s stomach crashed to the floor. 

“Well, it is worse than I thought it would be, which makes me think that someone is lying about how much pain they’re in.” Everyone turned to look at Otabek. 

He just shrugged. “It hurts but it’s not like I can’t walk or anything. I’m not on the floor screaming.” 

Tair sighed heavily pinching the bridge of his nose. “How bad is it, Yerik?” 

“Well, I wish I could give you some good news. To fix this, Beka will most likely need surgery.”

Fuck. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Fuck. Surgery. Tair’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder again. 

“He’s not at the stage where it’s urgent - like he said he can still walk. I know it’s a big decision to make and since you insist, Beka, that the pain isn’t too bad, we can continue on with the electro therapy for a while longer. But I’m not going to lie, or sugar coat this, your knee isn’t in good shape.”

Otabek swallowed. So, there was no hope of him competing next season. 

“And surgery definitely will help?” 

Yerik nodded. “As far as I know most athletes who have gotten this surgery were able to get back to regular if not better performance. But like I said, we don’t need to have it right this second. You, Tair and Gennadiy talk it over. In the meantime, I’ll book more frequent electro therapy appointments and we can see how you feel from there.” 

  
  


Otabek walked across the drawing room, ignoring all the commotion coming from the dining room on the other side of the mirrored dividing wall. It wasn’t just a coincidence that his mom would call a family dinner that night. She was worried and when she was worried she made herself busy. Running a single finger along the smooth, polished wood of the grand piano. It hadn’t been used in years, mostly ornamental at this point; he preferred the small keyboard in the safety of his own room. But apart from him, his mom was the only other one who knew how to play. Maybe Adil, if she hadn’t forgotten. He didn’t know why he sat down and opened the case, ignoring the painful twinge in his knee. 

Blocking out all plates and cutlery clinking and his family laughing and talking loudly, he placed his fingers against the cool keys. There was this melody at the back of his head, he didn’t even know if it was original or he’d heard it somewhere before. It took him a few tries to get the chords right, but the melody was easy to work out. He kept his foot on the soft pedal, working out more and more until he had figured out the chorus completely, before starting over. It was slower than his normal music, softer and almost tender; he had no idea where it was all coming from. 

“Uncle Beka?” A tiny body sat down on the bench next to him. “What are you doing?” 

He hit a wrong note, before sighing and letting his hands fall to his lap. “Playing a song, Maeena.” 

She blinked up at him, getting on her knees to peer at the keys. “That part didn’t sound nice.”

“No. I played it wrong.”

“Oh. What does it sound like when you play it right?”

A sharp breath in. “I don’t know.”

She frowned. “How can you not know?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t made that part up yet.”

Her eyes widened. “You made the rest up?” He nodded and her mouth dropped. “Are you a musician?”

He scoffed, looking down at the keys. “Not really.” She looked disappointed, pouting and looking like she was about to call him out on a lie. “Hey, you wanna do something really important for me?” Her eyes lit up, and she nodded. “Go up to my room, and get one of the notebooks on my desk. Make sure it’s one with funny lines and dotsin it.” She scampered off and Otabek scratched the back of his neck, before turning back to the piano. 

He played back the chorus, shaking his head and reworking some of the chords. It sounded sadder now, he slowed the breath. Sadder and truer. He hit a wrong note again, his foot sliding off the soft pedal, and let his left hand fall still, his right going up an octave and and quickly working out a descant melody. He sped it up, faster and faster. His heart was racing and it was hard to breathe. He played it again, his throat tightening and eyes blurring. He sped it up again, fingers beginning to cramp, and then faster until his body couldn’t even keep up. He hit a series of wrong notes, swearing and shaking out his fingers. 

“Can we expect you to drop an album soon?” Hadiya sat down in the same place her daughter had been a few minutes ago. 

He shook his head, wiping his eyes with his finger tips. “I’m just.. playing.” He coughed when his voice caught in his throat. 

“I can’t believe how talented you are sometimes.” 

Otabek scoffed.

“No seriously. I was shit at music, I could barely play sports, and here you are, just making a new song on a whim, and also so good at your sport that you’re pretty much a household name.”

Otabek swallowed, staring down at their laps; Hadiya’s thin leg a fraction of the size of his. She said all that but everything still felt like it was falling apart. Hadiya wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Mama said you had a doctor’s appointment today. She said something went wrong?”

He bit the inside of his cheek scowling, as his gut twisted into knots. Of course Ma would talk about him to everyone else. Nothing he told her was ever a secret for too long. “What did she tell you?” 

“That you were upset about something.” An understatement. He sighed harshly. “Do you want to talk about it? I won’t tell Ma or anyone else if you don’t want me to. But that song you were playing just now was pretty sad.” Otabek looked up at her. She was intuitive like their mom, but she knew when to keep her mouth shut and not to pry. “Everyone’s worried about you, Beka. We just want to know you’re okay.” 

His throat was getting tighter by the second. “I…”

Hadiya hugged him, pulling him close and tight just how their mom did. He closed his eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the way his knee flared at the new angle it was bent. He took a few deep breaths, focusing on her small hands rubbing slow circles into his back, her hair that tickled his cheek and neck and the smell of spices from the kitchen that clung to her clothes. 

“It’s so hard to remember you’re my _little_ brother when you have all this.” She squeezed his deltoid. “I can’t even get my arms around you.” 

He forced a chuckle. “Younger, not littler.” He’d outgrown the twins when he was like fifteen. He took a deep breath, slowly pulling away. “I need to get surgery. On my knee.” Her eyes widened and she let out a small gasp. A small part of him had known it was coming, when no treatment helped in the long run, when his exercises and stretches were only doing so much to help. “I had a CT scan, we expedited the results and... “ he glared at his knee. “There were too many small tears.” He scoffed bitterly. “I need to start thinking about it. Therapy is only going to prolong the inevitable.”

“Beka…”

He hung his head. “If I don’t get surgery, I won’t be able to continue skating.” 

He thought back to Gennadiy and Tair in Yerik’s office. “What do you want to do Beka?” Gennadiy had asked. “It’s a minor surgery, with a high success rate. The recovery process is what’s a challenge.” They’d been told six months to a year. “Or if you told us,” he paused to squeeze Otabek’s shoulder and looked straight into his face, his light brown-green eyes were watery. “If you told us that you’d rather retire now and find a way to manage the pain with everyday life, we would all understand.” He hadn’t been able to answer, his throat had closed up, but he had already known what his choice was. 

She hugged him again, rubbing his back. “Don’t tell Ma yet,” he mumbled. “I don’t want her to worry. And it’s not urgent. As long as my knee doesn't start hurting more than it does already and I can still walk.”

“Of course. Have you spoken to Kerim, though. Or Dad?” 

“I… not dad.”

She nodded. “We can talk to Kerim after dinner. And then we can decide how to break it to Ma.”

Otabek always felt like such a baby whenever his siblings got together like this. They were all so put together with their perfect spouses and kids. The age gap would never not feel weird, like he was in a room with older cousins, or even aunts and uncles, and not his brothers and sisters. Kerim had gone off to university before he was even one. The twins had left when he was like four, and Maalik wasn’t a fan of kids. Right now he was definitely getting the aunt and uncle vibe from them, everyone ready to chastise him or offer up advice as they sat around his bedroom. He had asked Kerim if he could talk to him, Hadiya had come too and Adil had followed. Maalik was never one to be left behind and had ended up in the room too. 

Otabek stared at his lap, as if he could see his knee pulsing from under his jeans. His ergonomic computer chair felt as hard as rock. Hadiya’s hand was warm and tight against his shoulder from her perch on the desk beside his chair.

“What do you know about knee surgery, Kerim?” he asked, screwing his eyes shut. 

There was a short pause. Hadiya drew in sharp breath, while Adil gasped softly and Malik hissed. 

“Well, there’s many types of knee surgery.” Kerim started. “What type do you… Shit. Really Beka?” 

He nodded, looking up. Maalik looked disturbed and Adil was a little bit grey. “The CT scan showed literally like hundreds of little tears. Therapy is only going to do so much at this point.” 

Maalik swore softly. Kerim rubbed his temples. “Do you know what caused it?”

“Jumping.” Hadiya swatted his shoulder. 

Kerim narrowed his eyes. “No shit. I mean-”

“Genetics. Over use,” he sighed. “I could try to jump and land on my other leg,” he mumbled the last part almost bitterly.

“But if it was that easy you would have done it already.” Maalik snipped.

“It would be like trying to teach myself to write with my left hand.” 

“Do you have to land on _one_ leg?” 

Otabek rolled his eyes. “ _Yes,_ I have to land on one leg.”

“Allah, do you two have to fight about everything?” Adil mumbled. 

Otabek rolled his eyes again. “I’ve already decided that I’m going to get the surgery anyway. I just have to decide when. So changing my technique wouldn’t even matter once I’ve recovered.”

“So, what’s the point of this little family meeting, then?” 

“Because I wanted to tell you guys. I thought you’d want to fucking know, Maalik.” 

Maalik obviously couldn’t think of any smart remark, his mouth hung open. Kerim sighed heavily, and Adil and Hadiya gave each other a look. 

“Are you sure about this, Beka?” Kerim asked. “It’s a minor surgery, but it’s still a big deal.” 

Otabek stared at his knee. Kerim placed a hand on his back, squeezing firm enough to be comforting. “I know,” he mumbled. “These past few months have been complete shit for me, okay.” Maalik grunted in agreement, and Hadiya reached across to squeeze his hand. “But this is something I can do that I know will help me, my career, I dunno give me a fresh start.” 

“Yeah, you need one of those,” Maalike muttered. Adil punched him. And oddly enough a chuckle slipped through his lips. 


	10. Chapter 10

“You look good, Otabek,” was the first thing Yuuri said as he and Viktor pulled up to the airport curb. 

“Uh, thanks,” he nodded, suddenly self conscious. 

“Sorry, that was weird.” Yuuri started to blush and a chuckling Viktor got out of the passenger seat to help him load his bags into the trunk. 

He firmly shook Otabeks hand before looking down at the small duffel bag by his feet. “Is that all?” 

He was only staying for a week this time. “I didn’t need to bring much, Sir.” 

Viktor tilted his head, as he picked up the bag. “Viktor is fine, Otabek. I’ve told you before.” 

Otabek still didn’t know if he should listen or not. 

“But you really do look a lot better.” Yuuri said, as he settled in the backseat. “I’m not saying you didn’t look good last time, but you don’t seem as troubled, healthier too.” 

“My ma, said I got fat.” 

Viktor let out a loud bark of laughter, right as Yuuri assured him he didn’t. He had put on some weight, he was doing less ice training and more conditioning for his knee. They were going to give it one last ditch effort before he would go ahead with surgery. And conditioning meant strengthening his calf and thigh muscles to help take strain off the tendon or something like that. Jeans were almost impossible to get up his thighs now. He looked down at his joggers, his legs definitely looked bigger and Bal had made jokes about his ass. 

“That’s just tough love,” Yuuri said. “I wish my mom would tell me things like it is sometimes.” 

Otabek hummed. He would be staying with Viktor and Yuuri this time, mostly to keep his visit a surprise, but Lilia still scared him. Yuri’s show was later that evening and he would be flirting around practicing and getting ready all day. The plan was to surprise him after the show. 

“I heard you’re taking the upcoming season off as well?” Viktor chimed in, drawing Otabek’s attention from Saint Petersburg’s excuse for a summer outside. 

“Uh yeah… my knee…” 

“You still haven’t found a way to fix it?” 

Otabek shrugged. “We’re trying a few things. It definitely feels better, but I shouldn’t be jumping on it.” He briefly wondered if he should tell them about the surgery. He hadn’t even told Yuri yet. “It’s a long time to be away from competing, but my coaches think it’s better to wait than to jump back in with a possibility of ending my career completely.” 

Yuuri nodded. “Have you considered getting surgery if it’s that bad?” 

Hmm, Yuri was right; he really was psychic. He couldn’t stop the surprise from showing on his face. “I Uh… I -“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Yuuri hummed. “It’s a big decision.” 

Otabek hung his head. “I know. I’m actually… if this new conditioning and therapy program doesn't end up working I’ll be getting the surgery later this year or early next year.” 

“Oh.” Yuuri caught his gaze in the reflection of the rear view mirror. And Viktor glanced over his shoulder, his eyebrows all the way up his forehead. 

He sighed. “I’d appreciate it if this stays between us. I haven’t even told Yuri yet.” 

“Right, of course.” 

The car fell into silence until Viktor started babbling on about something he had started telling Yuuri days ago and Otabek instantly zoned out. 

Yuuri set him up in the guest room, and Allah this house was really too big for just two people, but he had remembered Viktor saying something about wanting kids soon, and Yuuri was also thinking about retiring, so maybe a house this large had been a good idea. Not like his family was one to talk. It was a small room, the bathroom was down the hall, and Yuri’s loft space was right above him. 

The boy had left it a mess from the last time he was over, which was no surprise. Otabek sat down on the bed smoothing his plan across the rumpled, fluffy leopard print sheet. His knee was a bit stiff from being bent for so long and he should go for a walk around the neighbourhood or something to stretch it out, but instead he flopped backwards and pulled Yuri's pillow to his face. His smell lingered on the fabric and Otabek felt like an absolute creep, but he breathed in deeply. Home, even though he wasn’t; he was home. 

Yuri was beautiful in a light blue costume with trailing gossamer wings on his back. He was dancing en pointe again and even though he was a head and shoulders taller than most of the female dancers the choreography accentuated rather than masked it. Opening night was pretty packed, they met Mila, Georgi, and his wife at the door and Yakov and Yuri’s grandpa were already seated. His grandfather made it a point to shake his hand and grin widely at him while he said how happy he was that he could make it to support Yurochka. 

How Yuri, or all of the ballerinas actually, were able to dance on their toes was still a mystery to him. He did remember Yuri boasting to him about how rare it was for men to dance en pointe, especially in a production, and when the crowd cheered when he did it, he couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest. Yuri only had a few dances, and if Otabek was being perfectly honest ballet bored him. The show was too long and once Yuri was off the stage it was a struggle not to pull out his phone. The music was alright; classical wasn’t his thing, but it was beautiful. He was glad when they were finally applauding the final bows and the curtains drew closed. 

Then there was more waiting around after the show and he was sure that the flowers he’d gotten for Yuri would be wilted by the time he gave them to him. But after what felt like hours, Yuri and Lilia met them in the main hall, when most of the audience had left and the only one there was the security. Yuri looked exhausted, He had taken off the stage makeup, but there were still dark smudges around his eyes and he was slouching and dragging his feet in a pair of flip flops. Otabek grinned wondering how long it would take him to notice that he was there, because he looked like he was already half asleep. He hung back, watching as Yuri hugged his grandpa then said something to Yuuri and Viktor. Otabek wasn’t paying attention when Mila cracked a joke, but Yuri spun around snarling then froze, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. Grinning, Otabek stepped out from behind Mila and held out his arms. There was a split second where nothing happened, Yuri just stared, dumbfounded, and Otabek wondered if this was a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have surprised Yuri, or even come to Saint Petersburg. But then Yuri’s eyes softened and he smiled so wide Otabek could see his gums. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Yuri ignored all the comments about his inappropriate language. 

“Surprise?” 

Yuri bounded over, leaping into Otabek’s arms. He just managed to catch him, squashing the flowers against his back. 

“I can’t believe you actually came,”

“Yeah, here I am.” Yuri’s arms tightened around his neck. “You were amazing tonight by the way.”

Yuri giggled softly, nuzzling against the side of his head. “Thanks.” 

He patted the small of his back before setting him back on the ground and handing him the flowers. Yuri smiled, bringing them to his nose and lightly hugging them to his chest. 

“Did all of you know about this?” He focused his glare at Yuuri who just smiled and shrugged. 

Yuri held on to his arm all the way through the car park and didn’t even let go for the entire ride back to Yuuri and Viktor’s. He only let him go to inhale some leftover noodles and shower. Otabek patted himself on the back, coming here for the show had been a really good idea. 

“How long are you staying?” Yuri asked, slipping into an oversized t-shirt before blotting his hair with a towel. 

“Until a day after your last show.” Otabek set his glasses on the nightstand, sinking into the fluffy leopard print pillow. 

“Oh. You literally just came for the show.” Yuri hung the towel around his shoulders. 

“Stop acting all disappointed, Plisetsky. You know you’re coming back with me.” 

Yuri curled up next to him, slightly chilled from the shower and smelling of soap. Otabek pulled him onto his chest. 

“I haven’t even booked the flight yet; we didn’t even talk about a date!” 

“Well, lucky for you, my parents aren’t travelling at all this month and I knew you’d be tired after the show, so we’re taking a private flight back to Almaty.” 

“A private what?” Yuri shot upright. Smirking, Otabek pulled him back down. “You have a fucking plane?” 

“No, it’s my dad’s. Well he mostly rents it out when he doesn’t use it for business.” 

“Holy shit…. and you fly commercial to all your competitions because?”

He shrugged. “I’d rather fly with the team. And it’s usually in use when I need to travel anyway.” 

Yuri breathed in so deeply Otabek felt his rib cage expand against his side. “I can’t fucking believe you.” 

“What?” 

“You have a fucking private plane.” 

He chuckled, “it’s not mine-“ 

“Not the point, dumbass.”

Otabek kissed him and Yuri turned boneless in his arms, kissing back slowly. He ran his fingers through the damp ponytail, breathing him in. Yuri rolled on to his chest, throwing a leg over his thigh and cupping his jaw. Otabek’s chest tightened while his gut flared with tingling heat. 

“I thought you’d be exhausted,” he said breathing across Yuri’s jaw before nipping his bottom lip. 

Yuri pulled away, eyes widening and looking slightly guilty before flopping back into the bed. “I am. Sorry.” 

Otabek scoffed, pulling him back into his chest. “Don’t apologise.”

“But-”

“I’m a horny bastard, remember.”

Yuri weakly swatted his shoulder before rolling over and dragging Otabek’s arm over his chest. Otabek kissed his temple, spooning him.

“Good night, you idiot.”

Chuckling, Otabek settled into the mattress, a giant smile on his face. 

Otabek didn’t know how Yuri was even standing by the end of the week. There was a show almost every night and they were still practicing during the day. Plus, on top of that he was forcing Viktor to come up with choreography for his new routines and dragging him into the studio when he had time. After the last show, there was a party for the cast and crew, and Otabek still had no idea where Yuri got all that energy from, but his Insta-stories had him baffled. There was a lot of wine, and Yuri hit it off with his crush, Stella; it really was so adorable how he fan-girled over her. He didn’t bother waiting up, especially not after he got a call from Lilia saying that Yuri had over done it and he’d be spending the night with her. Thankfully, they were scheduled to leave for Almaty at noon.

The plane could hold around ten passengers and honestly Otabek couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on it. He guessed it had been re-decorated, because he could have sworn the seats were fuzzy and blue when he was younger. They were beige leather now with black accents, and instead of the rows of seats he remembered there was a literal couch that ran almost the length of the cabin. There were throw pillows and a little coffee table; his mother must have had something to do with this of course. But if the plane was mainly rented out to celebrities and rich business people, it made sense to change it into something more of an air-lounge.

He didn’t know the flight attendant either, a Kazakh man who looked like he was in his forties in a neat, navy suit. He introduced himself as Dias and offered them towelettes as soon as they stepped aboard. 

Yuri’s mouth was basically dragging along the floor. 

“Dad, redecorated,” Otabek mused watching as Yuri wobbled over to one of the oversized reclinable seats. 

“Fuck, this is even bigger than first class seats,” he groaned as he pulled up the foot rest. “Fuck you for not using this more. Do you have any idea what hell it is to fly coach with Georgi’s students?” 

Otabek snickered, sliding Yuri’s bag out of the way between the wall and his seat. 

“I hate you.”

“Why?” He sat down in the seat across from him, grinning. 

“You kept this luxury away from me all this time.”

Otabek shrugged, watching Yuri tuck his feet underneath himself and curl up. He was dressed in leggings and an old hoodie, his hair was pulled up into a messy bun and a pair of shades were folded around the front of his collar. Lilia had chided him for drinking too much last night, but still gave him a hug before they left. 

“Blame my dad. I told you; I don’t use it much.” 

“Well you fucking should.” 

“Then talk to my dad.” 

Yuri pouted, but perked up immediately when Dias came up to them with two glasses of champagne. Yuri’s eyes were sparkling as he took a glass and mumbled thanks. He tossed his phone to Otabek. 

“Take a picture of me,” he demanded, adjusting his hoodie and patting down his hair. 

“Thought you were hungover.” 

Yuri rolled his eyes. “It’s champagne, _dad_. It’s basically juice.” 

Otabek scoffed, remembering a time when Yuri was hesitant to even drink a beer. Yuri posted the pictures immediately, tagging Otabek of course and he read the comments just for fun. Mila was screaming gibberish and profanities, while Yuri’s fans gave nothing but compliments. 

“I think Viktor fainted,” Yuri cackled. “Katsudon said he stopped working.” Otabek scoffed. “If he ever sees how you live in Almaty I think he actually might die.” 

“He won’t.”

“You fucking live like royalty. Viktor is the most pretentious person in this half of the world. He’ll have a heart attack.”

“You haven’t told him about my family?” 

Yuri shrugged, buckling his seat belt as Dias came around to tell them that the pilot was getting ready for takeoff. “It’s hard to picture how rich you guys are without seeing it. Like I told him you’re filthy rich, but he just laughs.” Otabek smiled. “Fucking private jet. Are you fucking kidding me. Who even are you?” 

“My dad’s, not mine-”

“Like that makes any difference.”

Otabek rolled his eyes. “I’ll book us economy tickets next time.”

Yuri glared at him. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’ll murder you and break up with you.”

“In that order?” 

Yuri raised an eyebrow before turning to his window. “Can’t date a corpse, can I?”

Otabek laughed, full-on head thrown back, eyes shut laughter. He hadn’t done that in a long while. 

Yuri slept most of the flight, he moved to the couch and stretched out with one leg hanging off of the side and only woke up when Dias came back to ask if they wanted any food. Yuri got a dish of poached oysters and caviar. And Otabek knew for a fact that he didn’t even like oysters; it just sounded like the most fancy thing on the menu - and would look the most impressive on his Instagram. He ate three of the seven oysters and only the toppings off the rest, then had two slices of anjou pear cheesecake before passing out again. Otabek had to admit that it was one of the more entertaining flights he’d been on, and it was sooner than he would have liked that his dad’s driver was picking them up in the escalade. 

The morning of the family barbecue was always hectic. Even more hectic than Four Continents. Otabek’s mom woke them up, well she mainly wanted Yuri to help in the kitchen and Otabek found himself with his dad and Kerim, watching as a few of the gardeners stack wood in the fire pit and set up the coals for the barbecue. The one time he ventured into the kitchen to check up on Yuri his mom had chased him out with a knife for slowing down the process. But Yuri met him in his room later, smelling of soap with damp hair pulled up into a bun at the top of his head and dropped a pile of clothes onto the middle of his bed.

“Finally escaped?” Otabek joked, snapping his laptop shut. 

“I think my fingers are going to permanently smell of garlic.” Yuri wrinkled his nose, sprawling across the bed. “There’s so much food.”

“She only asked you to help because she likes you.” Otabek chuckled. Yuri stuck out his tongue. “Anyone’s here yet?” 

“Iska’s parents are here with a few kids. Not sure who else is here now.” 

“We should probably head down then.” 

“Yeah,” Yuri sat up. “Red or black?” He held up two swimsuits, one in either hand and hopped off the bed. 

Otabek tilted his head to the side. The black one was tiny, it could have been a t-back - he didn’t know - but if he had to hear one more comment from his grandmother and older aunts and uncles about the type of people he brought home he was going to shoot himself in the head. He could stare at Yuri's ass another time. 

“Red.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Okay.” 

He dropped his pants, just like that and Otabek’s mouth went instantly dry. Oh Allah, Otabek took a deep breath, trying to fight off the little bit of heat that was already gathering in his stomach. Yuri’s legs were perfect, all smooth with muscular lines leading up to his - Otabek cleared his throat and looked away. Yuri scoffed, before shimmying into the red swimsuit. 

It was a one piece, very simple but somehow his ass still wasn’t fully covered. And the legs were cut so high they were almost up to his waist. That was a fashion trend that he wished would never go away. And Yuri looked amazing. 

He pulled him close after he’d finished adjusting everything and pecked him softly on the lips. 

“You are going to drive me crazy, Yuri Plisetsky.” 

Yuri laughed. “Calm down, boy, it’s only a swimsuit.” 

Otabek grinned, kissing him again, letting his arms trail from his waist to cup his ass. Yuri clicked his tongue, but when he pulled away he was smiling. 

“It’s not just a swimsuit,” Otabek said, smoothing his palms across the firm, yet still soft muscle. “Have you seen your ass?” 

Yuri snorted. “Yeah, skating and ballet would do that.”

“I’m not complaining.” He patted his ass for good measure and Yuri smiled. “But, please tell me you brought a coverup. If I have to hear one comment about indecency I’m gonna be punching some old people.” 

He rolled his eyes reaching behind him to the bed and picked up a pair of light, white shorts. “You’d punch a grandma for me?” 

“I’d punch ten grandma’s for you.”

Yuri rolled his eyes again, but he was grinning, so Otabek didn’t care how cheesy he was being. “Help me get my back.” He picked up a bottle of sunscreen and threw it to Otabek.

Otabek hooked an arm around his waist, pulling him close again and pressing his lips to the centre of his shoulder blades. He had already gotten a few light freckles on his shoulders and back from the day before when he and Camran and spent a few hours at Iska’s pool. Unfortunately he’d been at therapy, but Yuri had sent him enough pictures to make an album. Of course, he had saved almost all. And now that he thought of it, if that had been the same black swimsuit Yuri was wearing yesterday, it was even smaller on him than it had looked on its own. They were definitely in need of another pool day. A private one this time. Maybe one where Yuri didn’t even need a swimsuit. 

The bottle made a farting sound when he squeezed out a dollop of sunscreen. 

“Don’t be stingy with that,” Yuri teased as he ran his palms along his back, working the lotion into his skin. The swimsuit left all of his back exposed, and it wasn’t the first time he noticed just how toned Yuri's back was as well. “If I get sunburn, I’m going back to Saint Petersburg tomorrow.” 

Otabek chuckled, smoothing the last bit of lotion into his skin before swatting his ass. Yuri, yelped, spinning around and covering his butt with his hands. 

“You ass!” 

“Your ass.” 

Yuri snarled at him before rolling his eyes and pulling on his pants. Otabek grinned; he was so easy to rile up. It was cute, but it made him dread the conversation they needed to have later. He reached out, drawing him back again to place a soft kiss to his mouth. 

“You ready to face the battle?” 

“Your family isn’t that bad.” 

“If you say so.” 

Yuri was pulled into the kitchen again by his mom the second she saw him. 

“I’ve said it so many times, red is your colour,” she said with a wide smile.

Yuri blushed, allowing himself to be pulled away. Otabek shook his head, Yuri didn’t even realise how he was being manipulated. 

Iska was sprawled out on one of the pool chairs, a drink in hand and reflective shades. Otabek kicked the chair and he shot upright swearing. 

“Were you sleeping?” 

“Kinda.” He blatantly ignored a few of the kids calling him out for using bad words and took a long sip from his glass. 

“Rough night?” 

He sighed, lying back down. “Yeah. Was at the club until four. Remind me never to manage parties at Vista Lounge ever again. Their staff sucks and the management is a bunch of fools.”

“Right.” Otabek still wasn’t exactly sure what his cousin did for a living. 

“Where’s Yuri?” 

“Mom captured him.”

Iska snorted, holding his empty glass out to Otabek. “You know you have to marry him at this point, right? The family’s not going to let him escape.” 

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “What’re you drinking?”

Yuri was released from the kitchen right before his mom announced that the food was ready. Yuri piled his plate high with as much barbecued meat as could fit. He wasn’t playing games today, it was all meat and a few bread rolls. Otabek saw his uncle Ehan eyeing Yuri’s plate with mild disgust. He put his arm around Yuri’s waist, guiding him away before he could say anything about it and ruin Yuri’s afternoon. He had already had enough with all the comments from his mother’s sisters saying how he got so big. So big and he needed to ‘be careful or all that muscle is going to turn into fat’.

“Where are the vegetables, Beka?” his uncle Rachman teased sitting down next to Iska. “I thought an athlete like you would have a better diet.”

Otabek rolled his eyes as Iska shook his head. “They’re in the salad bowl.”

Uncle Rachman chuckled, digging into his own plate of meat just as Yuri came back balancing three drinks. 

“That’s _your_ plate?” he noted as Yuri sat down and pulled his stack of ribs and sausages towards him.

Otabek snickered, looking down at his more varied contents of noodles, a few homemade burger patties, a portion of steak, one roll of bread and a large salad. 

“Uhh…” Yuri bit his lip. “I didn’t eat breakfast.” 

Uncle Rachman laughed even louder, and Iska nudged him. 

“Allah, dad, are you already drunk?” 

His laughter drew over Iska’s older brother, Saken, and Otabek's mother. The tables were way too big. Way too big; his Uncle Ehan and Aunt Dania sat down too. Fuck. 

Yuri was stuffing his face with ribs, up to his wrists in sauce and his mother thought it was a good time for introductions. 

“Yura, dear, have you met my brother and sister?” 

Yuri hadn’t even noticed that more people had sat down at the table. He looked up with wide eyes slowly swallowing. Otabek handed him his napkin, sending his mom and annoyed glare. 

“Uh… I don’t think so,” Yuri coughed. 

“This is Ehan and Dania, and this is Yuri; Beka’s other half.”

“Ma…” 

“What? It’s true.” 

Iska snickered, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You don’t have to say it like _that_.”

“Then how should I say it?”

“I don’t know. _He’s my boyfriend_.”

Yuri was bright red, looking longingly at his plate. But he’d wiped off his hands and most of his face. 

“Oh anyway,” She continued. “Yura’s a ballerina and a figure skater - like Beka.” 

Aunty Dania just gave him a polite smile, but Otabek already knew what was coming from Uncle Ehan. He was like his mom, but had absolutely no concept of boundaries, and lacked any sense of intuition. 

“Omega?” 

There was a groan from both his mother, aunt and uncle. 

“You _know_ that’s not polite to ask anymore,” Aunty Dania glared at him. 

Ehan waved his hand. “I don’t mean anything by it. But look at him; he’s too pretty to be a beta, and you said him, so I know he’s not a girl.” 

Otabek wanted to strangle him. 

Aunty Dania pushed past him to cover Yuri’s wrist with both her hands. “Please forgive him, Yura. He’s what we like to call an idiot.” 

“Affectionately, of course.”

Yuri chuckled uneasily. 

“Although I wanted to say, you should be more careful about what you eat. It may be fine now, but once you get older… And I know omega’s put on weight once they hit fifty.” He chuckled, elbowing both his sisters. “Right, Alma?” 

She glared at him, but Otabek could see she wasn’t that annoyed. “I should kick you out of my house, you know.” 

There was laughter but Yuri was now looking at his food with a mixture of unease and utter hunger. Otabek patted his thigh under the table. 

“Eat as much as you want, Yura,” he muttered. 

“And you too, Beka, any bigger and you’ll have to go sideways through a door. Why do you need arms that big, boy?” 

Otabek took a deep breath after a look from his mother that warned him not to be rude.

“And you wonder why I don’t like bringing people to family things?” Iska huffed, staring at his dad. 

Uncle Rachman shrugged. “Beka is braver than you, that’s all.” 

Yuri did end up finishing his plate, but only after Otabek went for seconds as an example. Otabek decided after fifteen minutes with his mother’s brother that the only way he was going to get through his lunch was by being drunk. He did end up having a bit too much to drink, and dragging Yuri into the pool might not have been the best idea. But Maalik handed him another glass of scotch and joined him, leaning against the pool ledge to talk about the upgrades he was making to his own bike despite the wife’s protests. 

“Every time she sees me near it, it’s all oh, Maalik, you have two sons now you can’t be riding that death trap.”

Otabek was glad that Yuri found his bike cool, and even though he showed no interest in learning how to ride it himself, was a very willing passenger. 

“We should take them out together some time. Is there a show coming up soon?”

Maalik paused to think. “August I think. You’d really want to?”

“Yeah. Not competing this year anyway. Need to find something to fill the time.” He hadn’t seen Maalik smile that wide in a long time. Kerim joined them, and gave them the exact look their mother would have when he heard about the bike show, but he stopped listening when Hadiya asked Yuri what his exercise schedule was like to get legs like that.

Yuri talked for nearly twenty minutes straight, diving straight into complaining about Yakov and Viktor and Lilia. He hadn’t expected that Yuri would feel that comfortable around Hadiya yet, but his sister did have that effect on people. Both Maalik and Kerim looked exhausted just hearing about all he did and Otabek just laughed at them.

“Welcome to the life of a professional athlete.” Otabek snickered

“There’s no way you do all that,” Maalik rolled his eyes.

“There isn’t?” 

They stayed in the pool, until dessert was announced. Yuri gorged himself on ice cream and cake again before settling into a pool chair looking like he was going to fall asleep. Mostly everyone was inside by now, a cool breeze had the patio cooling down rather quickly and all the children got cold, or wanted to play with the games upstairs. Otabek stared at Yuri for a short while, the scotch was still making his head buzz. He was planning to talk to him later that night, while they were both in good moods from all the food and drinks, but now seemed as good of a time as any. 

“Hey, Yura,” he patted his thigh, standing up from the pool chair. “I wanna talk to you for a bit.”

Yuri sat up, frowning in confusion, but followed Otabek anyway. He pulled Yuri along to the back of the gazebo, where there were a few stone benches amongst the fully blooming summer garden. The sunlight turned Yuri’s hair into gold fire streaming down his back as he sat down closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky. Otabek’s chest was suddenly tight, and each breath was like fragrant smoke. Yuri was so perfect, it bewildered him. For the longest time he was untouchable, an idol for Otabek to admire. Then they were friends, and Yuri turned out to be a lonely, young boy with a mouth too big for him and an uncontrollable temper. And now they were what, boyfriends? Lovers? And Yuri was pretty much his saviour. He sat down on the bench next to him, sighing deeply. He had a lot to do to catch back up. 

“You okay, Beka?” Yuri asked, suddenly sober and cracking an eye open.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He stared at his knees, his stomach going cold and a phantom wave of familiar pain made his entire leg twitch. His knee had been perfectly fine for the entire day. But then he hadn’t done much physical activity.

“Just needed a break?”

“Yeah… but not really.” He needed this off his chest. And he needed to tell Yuri about it. He reached out to a yellow flower, picking off one of the tiny petals breaking it apart. 

“Uh…”

"How's your wrist by the way?"

"Wrist? Oh, yeah it's basically fine now." He bent it forward and back to prove it. "I mean just have to remember not to rest my head on it or anything like that, or it'll get sore."

Otabek nodded, wrapping his arm around Yuri's waist. “Okay, so my knee-”

“Fuck, it’s hurting?”

He sighed. “Not now. But, uh,” he took a deep breath. “You know training hasn’t been going all that well. I’m not competing in the upcoming season either, and well… If… I might be getting surgery.” Okay spit it out. Yuri should be used to his bluntness by now. But he needed Yuri stay calm; that was the most important thing. 

“What?” his eyes widened and Otabek felt him tense, ready to jump up off the bench. He tightened his arm, keeping him firmly against his side.

“Surgery. On my knee.” 

“Fuck, Beka… I…”

He shrugged, pulling Yuri to his side. He had already decided anyway. It wasn’t anything to get worked up over now. “Don’t say you're sorry or any shit like that. Yeah, it sucks, but probably if I want to get back to competing level I’ll need it. I'm honestly not worried about it at all, so you don't work yourself up either. Coaches wanted to try one last conditioning program, but I’m not sure it’s going to work. So, yeah, surgery.” And he really really wanted to get his life back on track. He was tired of fucking up, tired of feeling like shit, and tired of his body betraying him. He needed to get better. He was going to get better.

Yuri nervously licked his lips. “Fuck. When?” 

“Maybe the end of this year or early next.”

Yuri took a deep breath. “Shit, Beka.” He rested his head against his shoulder and hugged him tightly. “I’m gonna miss beating your ass at competitions.” 

Otabek scoffed. “Watch it Plisetsky. I’m going to come back and wipe your ass at both the GPF and World’s.”


End file.
